75 Victors
by LadyCordeliaStuart
Summary: I wrote a fic about the 23rd Games, and that spiraled into a little universe with 22 Victors I had to make up. This will give them backstories I can draw on for future appearances. I'll be adding more Victors as more come from my SYOTs. Canon Victors will get a little something, but I don't want to mess with them, since neither I nor my readers made them up, so they'll be shorter.
1. Orchard Angelou

Orchard Angelou, District Eleven

This can't be real. It's just a show. They're going to give us a little scare and show that they can, and then they're going to let us go. They can't make us pay for this war. I was twelve when it started. I'm only fifteen now. There's a boy next to me who's thirteen. The countdown began, and I waited for it to turn off and for the platforms to lower back into the ground.

_Haven't we already paid enough? Haven't we all paid? _I thought of the bombs raining from the sky, of running out of my burning house, of seeing the bodies lying in the streets. The fields at home were scorched and barren. We didn't even have anything to eat. I didn't even want to go home. I wanted to have a home.

The countdown reached ten, and I looked at the golden shape in the center of the ring of platforms. It was filled with blades and weapons. They couldn't think we were going to use them. We were _children. _We couldn't kill each other with knives. Nobody would want to watch that, not even the Capitol. The countdown reached zero and blinked off.

"_Let the Hunger Games begin!" _a voice boomed. None of us moved from our platforms. We looked at each other and laughed nervously. Minutes passed, and one of the boys tentatively tapped a foot on the ground. They told us there were bombs that would turn off when the timer ran off. That was probably just to scare us. After the boy stepped onto the ground, the rest of us followed. I stood by my platform and watched the others wander toward the Cornucopia. The youngest boy and girl grabbed two swords and started playfighting. The girl stuck her sword into the boy's crooked arm, and he fell back dramatically. She laughed and helped him up.

_They're taking a long time, _I thought. Then a circle of grass parted and a larger platform rose up. A bunch of Peacekeepers stood on it.

_Oh, they must be here to take us back, _I thought. The littler kids started running toward them. The peacekeepers knelt down and raised their weapons. All my instincts flooded back and I crouched behind my platform with just my eyes peeking over. The children stopped and looked at the Peacekeepers in confusion. Then the bullets started. They ripped into the children and spun their bodies backward. Blood shot out of dozens of holes in their bodies and none of them had time to scream. The rest of us made up for that. There was a mad dash for cover from half a dozen shrieking children. I stayed shaking behind my platform. I felt like I'd left my body and I was just a pair of frozen, staring eyes. Tears leaked out of me as I watched twelve children fall and die. When all the remaining children were hiding, the Peacekeepers stood up on their platform and lowered out of sight. Cannons started to boom.

_They killed them, _I thought. _They're dead. They're really dead. They shot them. They're dead. _Moans and whimpers filled the air. One boy was still screaming, a thin cry that stopped only when he gasped in another breath. _Daddy, come get me. Please come get me. _Something flickered above the golden thing.

60:00

It started counting backward. I knew what it meant.

_They want us to start killing. We have one hour. _For the first ten minutes, nobody moved. It took thirty minutes for me to start looking for the smallest child. It only took five to kill him. The rest scattered. There was nowhere to run in the wide, grassy field. I crawled into the golden thing and curled up on my side. I spent the night there, weeping and shuddering. Music played in the night, and the faces of the dead children showed in the sky. The little boy I'd strangled looked down at me, and I screamed to block him out. With every noise, I tensed and shrank deeper into the shelter.

Two days later the first new cannon boomed. I wondered which of the children it was. I stayed where I was and looked through the piles of weapons for water or food. There wasn't any. The next day six more cannons sounded. I wondered when mine would come.

_You're going to die, _I thought. _One of them will kill you just like you killed that boy. Someone's already out there killing. He'll come for you. _I looked at the weapons around me. They were hateful things, made by the Capitol for killing children. I couldn't stand to look at them. I wanted to leave it all.

_You can go home, _I realized. I knew what that would mean. _You already killed once, _the thought came. _What does it matter now? Someone has to be a killer. You know that now. You don't want to die? Better make sure everyone else does. _I stood up and walked out of the shelter. Nineteen of the other children were already gone. It was easy for me to find the other four. Most of them had run until they had no water left in them. They lay panting on the ground. They barely looked up when I crouched over them. It only took a moment. After I found the last one, I lay in the grass and cried. I only knew one thing. This must never happen again.


	2. Paul Olson

**Most of these won't be as long as Orchard's. Hers was the first Games, so I added some more story.**

* * *

Paul Olson, District Seven

The Arena was different this time. They told us to expect that, but I was still surprised to see all the peaceful trees. It looked just like home. I wavered on the edge of the platform as the countdown reached its end. The gong sounded, and I ran toward the Cornucopia with half of the other Tributes. The smaller ones ran for the trees. Three of the older children chased after them.

_They're actually going to kill them. They're just kids, _I thought. I picked up a plastic bag and ran into the woods. The first scream came while I was still looking for a good tree. The first cannon came when I was climbing it.

I picked a tall, solid pine tree for my perch. I felt for handholds in its rough, sticky bark as I climbed. The branches grew thinner as I climbed higher and higher. I hugged close to the trunk and wedged myself into a split. I could see an ocean of trees in one direction, and a grassy meadow lead to a river in the other. The clear forest air also carried sound excellently, and I heard the next two cannons clear as day. I pressed my cheek onto the flaky bark and closed my eyes.

The cannons quieted, and I looked into my bag. It had a pocketknife and a package of matches. I tucked the contents into my pocket and focused on what I really wanted in the first place: the bag. I opened it and slipped it over a leafy branch near my head. Then I broke off another branch and started stripping the bark with the knife. Lots of the trees back home were burned in the war, but the leftovers were what kept us from starving. Every part of a pine tree is edible, and even though the inner bark tastes like the raw wood it is, it kept my stomach from growling that first night. The next morning I took the bag off and drank the cupful of water in the bottom. It had something to do with the sun and the plant making its food. I felt sick to my stomach as I waited for the next cannon.

_There are murderers out there. They're stalking the woods and they're barely older than the children they kill, _I thought. I scrunched tighter against my tree. It wasn't safe down there. Up here, I had food, water and shelter. I could stay here a long time.


	3. Page Milani

Page Milani, District Eight

The brittle roots nicked my hands as I braided the strands into a rope. I wouldn't have thought a canyon would have so much greenery. The roots must reach all the way to the trees on the top of the cliffs.

It wasn't easy to learn to kill someone in a week. Lucky for me, I showed some natural aptitude for the spear, and that was an easy weapon to make. My handmade spear lay behind me in my little rock cave as I fashioned my rope. The mental part of killing was easier for me, and I didn't want to think about what that meant. I told myself that twenty-three of us had to die anyway, so it didn't matter who killed them. I'd already killed one, a girl who tried to stab me with a dagger as I ran from the Cornucopia. We tumbled to the ground and scrabbled at each other. My fingers closed around a rock and I brought it against her head. She crumpled against me, and I got a dagger. I was one of the oldest Tributes this year, since I was eighteen, but I wasn't big enough to kill anyone with a dagger. It was great for sharpening a stick, though.

My crevice was nice and cool, but when I looked down at the canyon floor, I knew these Games couldn't last long. Anyone who didn't have water would be dead in two days. I wasn't safe, either. The trickles of water from the stone ceiling above me would keep me alive for a week, but I'd be out of the fight long before that. I tested the tip of my spear and pulled on my rope. They were ready. I began gouging a hole in the handle of my spear. Little shavings of wood fluttered to the ground. It was like digging a hole with a spoon, but finally it was done. I teased the rope through the hole and tied it. Now if I missed I could reel it in and try again. When I held the finished product, I couldn't help but smile. I'd made a needle and thread. Of course.

I crouched at the mouth of my cave and waited. I was only ten or so feet off the ground, but many of the Tributes seemed reluctant to climb the rough walls. The boy from Seven was probably already at the top. The girl would be too if she hadn't gotten an axe through the chest at the Cornucopia. It took until near dark for the first Tribute to walk by. The rope wasn't even necessary. I didn't miss.

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**I didn't mention it in the POV, since people don't generally think about something so basic, but Page is of Italian descent (surprise, right?) and has Mediterranean features. It was also a coincidence that she made a needle and thread. I didn't even think about it until I was about to finish the chapter.**


	4. Sequioa Wilson

Sequoia Wilson, District Seven

I searched the platforms for Will, my District partner. We had graduated together a few weeks before the Reaping. He was more of an academic than a real down-home logger, but he knew his way around a hatchet. Our eyes locked at we both smiled. These Games were ours for the taking. The Cornucopia sat on a flat stretch in the side of a sprawling mountain. I couldn't even see the top, but I wasn't headed that way. Below us stretched miles and miles of pine forest. That was our domain.

I looked into the Cornucopia. There was a pile of axes on one side. I hoped the fluffy jackets and canned food would distract the other Tributes. I'd kept an eye out in training, and I knew which of us would care about weapons. The boy from Ten would want the sword across from the axes, and the boy from Six would run for the bow. Let them have them. It wouldn't matter anyway.

I found myself leaning over the edge of my platform as the last few seconds ticked away. I wanted the adventure to start. Sure, a few kids would die, but that wasn't my fault. I wasn't the one who made the Games. I was just going to win them. The gong sounded, and we started to run. A lot of the others ran up or down the hill. I darted straight into the Cornucopia and grabbed as many hatchets as I could carry. Will ran up behind me, according to plan, and he watched my back as I worked. I tossed him a hatchet and started stuffing whatever I could find into my pockets. I heard a cannon and whipped around to see if it was Will. It was the boy from Six. He lay on top of the bow with Will's hatchet in his back.

"Hey!" Will called. He held out an arm and I tossed him another hatchet. Our plan was to kill only if a Tribute was a threat. I was here to win, not to chop up little kids. I acted extra zealous in training so they only knew I could. They didn't know I didn't want to. I bent over and tucked a box of matches into my bra. It wasn't elegant, but it worked. I saw the boy from Ten out of the corner of my eye. He was running after the smaller Tributes. Coward.

I heard Will grunt, and then scuffling sounds. When I turned around, I saw he was pinned underneath the giant boy from Four. His hatchet was pressed flat against his chest, and the giant's hands were around his neck. I threw one of my hatchets at the boy's head. From seven feet away I couldn't miss. I helped Will wiggle out from underneath the giant's bulk and helped him to his feet. The Cornucopia was ours for the taking now. We took what we want and headed for the woods. Together, we would be unstoppable.


	5. Jonah Breaker

Jonah Breaker, District Four

The Capitol probably thought I would be long dead by now. Since I was from Four, obviously all I knew how to do was swim and fish. As a matter of fact, I _did _know how to swim and fish, which was exactly why I didn't spend any time training for that. I spent all my time at the survival stations, and as a result, I knew what a cactus looked like. In this scorched, sun-dried Arena, a lot of us would die of thirst, but I wouldn't be among them. I gently tugged off one of the cactus' spiny arms and sucked at the spongy flesh within.

I ran a handful of sand through my fingers and pretended it was from the beaches back home. I longed for the cool water all around me, sliding across my skin and washing the grit away. A breeze blew the sand in my face, and I coughed dryly. Specks of dirt coated my tongue.

Something shimmered in the distance. I peered closer, wondering if it was another mirage. I'd heard of them before, but here they were real. If I hadn't known the puddles I had seen before weren't real, I would have followed them until I couldn't go any farther.

This wasn't a mirage. The form drew closer and I realized it was another Tribute. It looked like a girl from the long hair. She was crawling toward me with her head barely up over the sand. Her skin was red and strips of it were peeling off. Her hands left a bloody trail in the sand. Her head raised slightly, and she stopped. I knew she could see me.

"Water," she whispered. It was barely loud enough for me to hear. Her voice was crackly like dry paper. Her shoulders trembled at something like a bark came from her mouth. I thought she was trying to cry.

"Please, water," she said again. I looked at the cactus in my hand. What was it going to be? Life or death?

I walked over next to her. There was a spear lying a few feet behind her. I knew she couldn't do anything with it, but I picked it up anyway. I knelt down beside her and held the cactus to her lips. When she felt its dampness she clamped her fingers around it and started slurping.

"Better?" I asked when she was done.

"Thank you," she said weakly. I smiled. No one should die without water. She tried to sit up, and I stabbed the spear through her stomach. Thick, goopy blood dribbled out, and she stopped twitching within seconds.

She didn't have any hope anyway. If her organs weren't already shutting down the burns would have finished her. I didn't feel any guilt… yet. I looked at her spear and remembered how back home some people used spears to fish. I was never any good at it. I couldn't spear anyone, even if I did want to. And yet, when I stood up and left her behind, I brought it with me.


	6. Makarios Komenus

Cassius Svenson, District Two (18)

I held my back straight as I bent my knees and held my fists in front of my face. Chief West looked my stance over.

"Remember to keep your fingers on the outside," he said. "Good stance."

The Hunger Games have been here for five years. It's safe to say they aren't going anywhere. We in Two decided to fight back the only way we could. Our new Training Academy opened its doors eight months back, and I've been training ever since. I could hit a target from across the room with a spear, and I was growing quite prodigious in hand-to-hand combat. I wasn't unstoppable, but it doesn't take much to overpower a bunch of scared children. If the Capitol wanted us to kill, it was time for them to see what happened when we did.

When Reaping Day came, I was the only one in the crowd who wasn't scared. I wasn't the only one who had trained in the Academy- thought it was a small class, since it wasn't exactly legal to train. However, I _was _the only one who was about to be the first Tribute in Panem to volunteer. A Capitolite woman reached into the bowl and called out a name.

"Cliff Bradford!" she announced. She waited a moment as the boy stepped onto the stage, then continued. "Do we have any volunteers?"

"I volunteer as Tribute!" I shouted. Half the people in the crowd gasped in unison, and everyone turned to face me. The woman stared openmouthed at me.

"It, uh… it seems we have our very first volunteer! Come up here, young man," she said. She tittered as I walked forward.

"And what is your name?" she asked through a plastered-on smile.

"Cassius Svenson," I said. The female Tribute, Anna Pick, peeked sidelong at me and reluctantly took my hand. I raised hers with mine and stood proudly as the woman announced us.

"Let's hear it for Anna Pick and Cassius Svenson!" she said. She swept her arm over us like she had planned for this all along. The crowd was silent. It wasn't that they had anything against us. They were just utterly stunned.

My father wasn't pleased when he came backstage.

"What did you do?!" he blurted. "What on Earth were you thinking?"

"You knew I was training," I said.

"I didn't expect you to _volunteer! _That was just to prepare for the worst," he said.

"Don't worry. I'll be back. They won't know what hit them," I said.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he said before he left. I guess we'd find out.


	7. Quora Liebniz

Quora Liebniz, District Two (18)

Cassius proved the Academy worked. Now I was going to prove that it didn't just make survivors, it made Victors. Cassius killed five Tributes in his Games. I had my sights set on twenty-three, but I expected to take around twelve. If they weren't tough enough to keep themselves alive, it wasn't on my head. I was best equipped to survive and prove my worth. That's what the Games were for: to weed out the ones who aren't worth keeping.

I stood in the tube listening to some last-minute advice from Cassius. For a Victor, he wasn't very confident.

"I know you're here to win, but don't take any unnecessary risks. Start with the smaller Tributes and let the larger ones get worn down for a while. Don't try to defend everything in the Cornucopia. Supplies don't last forever and the others will run out eventually. Focus on finding them later," he said. I nodded impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah. I got this," I said. He smiled at me as the glass closed around me.

"I know," he said. The tube rose and I got my first look at the Arena. Yellow grass covered the ground. A few tall, thin trees dotted the landscape. There was a pond in the distance. Otherwise, the ground was flat. It was perfect.

The second the gong went off I sprinted into the Cornucopia. I grabbed the bow and started shooting. I started with the ones who were running away- it would save me the effort of running them down later. I took down four of them and turned my attention to the others in the Bloodbath. The girl from Three, the one who was dynamite with a sword, was stuffing cans into a backpack.

_Let the larger ones get worn down for a while, _I remembered Cassius saying. I nocked an arrow and sent it into the back of her head. Cassius taught me everything I needed to survive, and I respected him. But these were my Games, and surviving wasn't enough. I'd do this my way. I saw my District partner running toward the pond. I aimed an arrow at him, then let my bow drop. He hadn't trained in the Academy. I'd take him out when I had to, but it was bad form to kill your partner. Maybe one of the others would take care of it for me.

It wasn't long before the cannons started sounding. They went off, one after another, until all twelve had sounded. Two of those weren't mine, but ten was already a record. I had to admit the Arena was part of it. Arrows go a long way, and there was nowhere to hide here. Of course, I'd have to keep up the good work if I wanted my record to stand. Two is becoming quite the powerhouse.

I set my bow down and looked at my supplies. I'd heeded Cassius and focused on the others, so quite a few supplies were gone, mostly water bottles. I still had three, and that would be enough as long as I controlled the pond. I picked up a canteen and slung it around my waist. There was a hat lying in the back of the Cornucopia. It seemed silly at first, but the sun was hot and as soon as I put it on I appreciated the shade. I buckled on a fanny pack- this was no time for fashion- and filled it with dried meat and fruit. I tucked a bottle of iodine in, shouldered my bow, strapped the quiver on, and started hunting.


	8. Doris Jones

Doris Jones POV- District Two, 18

I brought my knee up into Terra's throat. She gagged as I clubbed her aside and off of me with my arm. I straddled her and pressed my knife against her throat.

"Halt. Victory to Doris," the instructor said. I got up and watched Terra snarl at me as she gathered herself. I smirked back at her. All around us, pairs and groups grappled and rolled, but they didn't matter. It was clear who the Academy would select this year. The other Districts were easy prey. Trust the District of Peacemakers to dominate the Games.

We were just about to start melee class the next day when a courier interrupted, asking me to report to the headmaster's office. I could feel my mates' jealous stares as I got out of my seat and walked to the office. Headmaster Crum sat behind a desk in the only room in the Academy that wasn't filled with weapons.

"Jones, you've been selected as the female representative for District Two in the eight annual Hunger Games," he said without any further ado. I smiled, thanked him, and returned to class. I didn't let my joy mar my technique. In fact, I fought with enthusiasm I'd never felt before. I was going to bring honor to Two and show the rest of Panem that we didn't lie down and die. We stood up and fought.

When Reaping Day came, I waited in agony as the Anthem dragged on and the film showed the Dark Days and all that trash. A ridiculous mannequin from the Capitol fiddled around with the bowls until I wanted to put a spear through her and do it myself. She called a name.

"I volunteer as Tribute!"


	9. Estrella Vasquez

Estrella Vasquez- District One, 18

Crystal handed me my outfit as I sat staring at the empty glass tube. I looked at the thin t-shirt and blue jeans and knitted my brows in confusion. It felt odd, being so close to death and not feeling the slightest bit scared. I only felt prepared.

"This is it?" I asked her.

"That's it," she said. "I hope it's warm in there." A bell went off, and I stepped into my tube. It rose slowly into the darkness. I took a last look at Crystal, with her diamond-crusted eyelashes and purple hair, and raised my eyes to the ceiling.

Two wasn't the only one that could play at that game. One wasn't just baubles and bubbleheads. They were going to find that out. Two, with their three Victors in a row and their crowded Victor's village. Two with their gloating voices and judging eyes. How would they feel when they were the ones dying?

The tube dissolved around me and my platform raised above the ground. The air was warm and the sun shone down from a cloudless sky. Brightly colored metal and plain wood platforms stretched on as far as I could see. Instead of the normal, cone-shaped Cornucopia, a pile of weapons and supplies teetered at the top of a twisting rainbow slide. A chain of throwing knives dangled from the support struts. Multicolored pebbles covered the bare patches of ground. Swings stirred in the breeze. One of the Tributes, the little boy from Five, squealed in surprise and delight and nearly jumped off his platform before he caught himself.

The countdown began. My eyes swept over the platforms as I waited. My only competition for the Cornucopia would be the pair from Two. I caught Kyler's eye and we shared a look. With my District partner at my side, we'd show what One was made of. I analyzed the Arena, looking for the escape routes the others would try to find. The wide, flat box of sand. The long bridge made of thin slats of wood. The covered slide and the enclosed tunnels. Other places, like the long monkey bars and the row of seesaws, would be less helpful. I had to smile when I took it all in. With my light pink shirt and my faded jeans, I looked like I was here for some after-school fun.

It was a lovely playground. Too bad I wasn't here to play.

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**Appearance notes for blog:**

**I'm sure it will surprise know one to hear that Estrella's ancestors were Mexican. She's quite the beauty queen back in One, though, and prefers to dye her hair barbie doll blonde to fit the style. She was rich enough to have her eyes colored pale blue. Her skin and other features remains Latina.**


	10. Toby Cash

Toby Cash- District Six, fifteen

We were all amazed when the platforms rose to reveal water. Nothing but water, a vast, glassy ocean. The Cornucopia floated freestanding between us, bobbing slightly on the calm surface. The boy from Four let out a whoop and pumped his fist in the air. I waited numbly as the countdown began.

When the gong sounded, I knelt down and clutched the edge of my platform. Half the Tributes dove in, and the pair from Four lead the charge to the Cornucopia. Immediately splashing and shouting filled the air, and I didn't see the wave until it dashed me under the water. I thrashed at the water around me and gulped in air when my head broke the surface. The platforms were gone. It didn't seem like twenty-four of us surfaced, and heads kept slipping under.

I never would have thought it was possible to live twenty-four hours in water. The cannons jerked me awake when I started to nod off. The sun beat mercilessly on my head, and the waves pushed me away from the Cornucopia, I guess far enough away that the Careers didn't come for me. I saw the pair from Four cutting through the waves toward the Tributes that were sending up plumes of water in their attempts to flee.

The things came when the sun was setting. Horrible things made all of teeth and fins. Two Tributes would be holding hands, then one would scream and blood would fill the water. The things were silent. They existed only to feed. I thought this was the pair from Four's game to lose, but they went as quickly as the others, gone in a flash.

Cannons. So many cannons. A fin in the water, and a cannon. A sudden flurry of motion as a Tribute tried to keep his head above the water, and then a cannon. My stomach growled and all I had to fill it was the fresh water around me. My skin shriveled and I forgot what solid ground felt like as the hours passed.

I lay on my back with still limbs. Let the things know I was ready. Let the water swallow me up. No more swimming. No more fighting. Just drifting in the waves. The Cornucopia was long out of sight. The only sound was the water in my ears. There was the blue of the water and the blue of the sky.

My eyes, weak and stinging from the light, gazed up at the sky. The water slapped against my burning, peeling skin. Only my head bobbed above the surface. Another cannon went off. The sky blurred. I floated in the water. Something closed around me, and I floated in the air.

* * *

**Now we finally know how Toby, my running gag mistake Victor, actually won a Hunger Games. I would not say this is based off the USS Indianapolis, since I don't want to trivialize what happened and the men who died to protect us, but it's a similar situation. For appearance, Toby looks younger than he is, and he's scrawny. He looks like the antithesis of someone who would win the Hunger Games.**


	11. Hyden Hawkins

Hyden Hawkins- District One, eighteen

Last year's Games was widely considered to be the worst in the ten years they'd gone on. It was over in four days and the only battles were panicked Tributes thrashing at the monsters that couldn't even tell they were fighting back. Worst of all, the pair from One both drowned in the Bloodbath, before they got in a single kill. Four didn't let us forget that, even with the performance of their own Tributes. The Gamemaker's popularity plummeted in the Capitol, and they were determined not to let it happen again. Their only success had been the new "muttations", and I was sure I'd see more of those in my Arena.

I soaked in the color of the Arena around me. Flowers in jewel tones as vibrant as the gems back home draped over towering emerald trees. Sun glinted off the water collected on the leaves and the air was thick with perfume. Soft ferns curled around my feet. In the distance, a waterfall churned softly. It was a beautiful place to die.

I frowned when a cannon went off. Fifteen of us were gone already, and if I wanted to set a record that would last, I needed to make the most of what was left. I adjusted a blade of grass resting inside the reed I'd hollowed and held it to my lips. A thin cry emanated from it. Before the Games started, I would have laughed if someone told me my most valuable weapon would be a trick I used to amuse myself as a child, but four of my kills had been attracted by its siren call. I knew it was the sound of a common killdeer, a bird that no more lived in a rainforest than I did, but to the other Tributes, it just sounded like food.

I climbed into a tree and sent out my call again and again. It wasn't long before I heard rustling in the undergrowth. A boy about my size stepped out of the grass. He paused to listen, and I obligingly called again. I waited until he looked up at me to throw the spear. It was more fun that way. His dark eyes grew to the size of saucers, and a scream died on his lips. It passed through him so easily, like he was a whisper of fabric. In the shining light, his blood looked almost like rubies.

Another cannon, and there were eight of us left. Six of the cannons were mine so far, including my District partner Nellie's. It was poor form, but it left more victims for me. I'd already killed the boy from Two as well, so the rest were mine for the taking. The way I saw it, my goal was fourteen kills. I would be not only One's first male Victor, but its best.

Thoughts of One's only Victor filled my head. Estrella, with her bronze skin and her sultry voice. I was lucky to have such a mentor. Right away she saw I didn't need training, so our sessions were so much more personal. She saw me off with a kiss for luck and a confident smile. She knew I was coming back. She was all the reason I needed. Setting the record was just the icing on the cake.

* * *

**As I finished this chapter, I impulsively decided to pair up Estrella and Hyden. The Capitol will love that- the deadly lovers.**

**I finally gave Hyden a last name, and it's not Seek. However, it _is _a similar reference. His last name came from Jim Hawkins from Treasure Island, which of course was written by Robert Louis Stevenson. He also wrote Dr. Jekyll and My. Hyde, in which someone said "If he shall be Mr. Hyde, I shall be Mr. Seek." I can never resist a pun.**


	12. Mars Ingalls

Mars Ingalls- District Eleven, age seventeen

I never wanted this. Life was hard in Eleven, but it was home. I loved the open air and the smell of the fruit. I even liked the work. For a big guy like me, it wasn't hard. I used to stay out past my shift so I could help the weaker workers reach their quotas. I liked Eleven, and Eleven liked me.

This Arena was nothing like home. Instead of sunlight, there was only the darkness of the empty mine shafts. The air was stale and dusty. When the Bloodbath started, the screams echoed off the dirt walls and chased after me, no matter how far I ran. The Cornucopia was in an elevator for this Games. When the faster Tributes started piling in, the rope snapped and half of us were gone in an instant. The sound of impact shook the whole Arena.

I was used to sleeping with my brothers squished in next to me. I wished I had an ally with me, but they were all scared of me. I laid down by one of the tiny bulbs that studded the walls, providing just enough light to see. I don't think I got any sleep.

My first kill was an accident. I heard a scream and ran to help. One of the surviving Careers was stabbing a little girl and laughing while she tried to flee. I grabbed him by the collar and threw him back. He must have hit something on the way down, since he didn't get up. I was too late, anyway. The girl was dead before I bent over her.

Every cannon sent clouds of dust through the air. My lungs burned and my eyes stung with the darkness. Why would they do this to us? I didn't even make any trouble. I did all their work. I just wanted to go home.

The Gamemakers never interrupted the Games, but this time they announced a "feast". I didn't want to find out what they'd do if I didn't go. As I made my way down the tunnels, I heard two cannons. There were only four of us left. The others must have gotten there before me.

It was easy to find the feast cavern, since I could see the light from aways off. I ducked inside and saw two Tributes lying on the ground, one with a sword in his chest and another with a knife in her forehead. The final Tribute was bent over a bowl of fruit. I cautiously approached the table. The Tribute heard me and looked up, and I nearly threw up. His skin was peeling off, leaving oozing tissue behind. Blood and fluid streamed from his mouth. He tried to stand up and fell to the ground, flopping spastically and clutching at his knife.

I shook with horror and tears as I bent over him. He spat up a clot of something red and yellow, groaning horribly. I didn't want to leave him, but there was nothing I could do. He looked up at me with an expression that tore my heart out. It looked like he was pleading.

"What do you want?" I asked. It hit me, and I started to sob. "No, I can't," I said. The boy convulsed. He tried to scream, but only blood came out.

"Don't make me, please," I said. I knew there was no other way. Why? Why does either choice make me a monster? Let me pick the crops and feel the sun on my back. Don't send me here. I cried like a baby as I did what I had to. I wrapped my arm around his neck, closed my eyes, and felt the bones crunch under my grip. I never wanted this.

* * *

**Mars is dark-skinned, like most people in Eleven. He has Thresh's body type, but he's much gentler-looking, sort of like John Coffey from The Green Mile.**


	13. Mags Cohen

Mags Cohen-District Four, age unknown (?)

Most Tributes from Four prefer to spend all their training time at the weapons stations. With the new sponsor system, they don't have to worry about supplies. I could use a trident as well as anyone else from Four, but it wasn't my favorite. It's one thing to spear a fish. Spearing a human is different. I'd do what I had to- I volunteered and I knew what it meant- but I wouldn't do any more than that.

The other Careers didn't know it, but I didn't plan to stick with them long. They were a violent and brutish bunch. I wasn't like them, and honestly, they'd kill me the moment they found out. There was a lot they didn't know about me. I never was one for idle speech. What came so easily to other people was a taxing process for me. Better to let my actions speak.

Jonah didn't mind when I told him my strategy was to lie low. I told the Careers I was going to specialize in supply gathering and healing, just in case. They laughed and brushed me aside, no doubt sure I would be the first to fall. I could see their point.

When training time came, I split off and settled at the fishing station. Of course, I didn't need much training, but practice is always good. I did learn about some new materials for fishhooks, mostly stuff we didn't have on the coast of Four. I spent the rest of my time at the fire-making, shelter-building, edible plants, first aid, and survival stations.

All my knowledge netted me a solid 7 at my private session. The rest of the Careers ranged from 8 to 11. I wasn't sure why I even volunteered. It was what my parents always wanted. I guess I wanted to make them proud. What a terrible reason to be proud of your daughter.

Jonah went over my strategy with me as we waited for my tube to descend. It was clear I couldn't rely on sponsors. My interview was a mess- I barely said a word. My score was only average for a Career, and I wasn't as pretty as Wish or as ruthless as Commodus. In all reality, I didn't have much hope. I waved a silent goodbye to my mentor as I rose out of sight.

The first thing every Career notices about an Arena is the Cornucopia. Everything else comes later. We were all shocked when we saw the usual bounty consisted of nothing but weapons. Every weapon imaginable was spread out before us, from blowguns to whips. Maybe Commodus was happy, but the rest of us knew the danger. Without supplies, weapons wouldn't be enough.

Wish looked at me with sudden admiration as the countdown began. It seemed I wasn't useless after all. Then again, I also just became her biggest threat. Immediately, my plans changed. The Bloodbath was no place for me. I swept my eyes across the Arena and took in my surroundings. It seemed a rather idyllic setting. Short grass surrounded the platforms, and there was a mountain in the distance. Behind the Cornucopia there was a lake, and tall grass rustled behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a wide river winding downhill into a valley.

I didn't hesitate when the gong went off. There was nothing I needed from the Cornucopia, and I took off toward the river. Wish darted in for a weapon and looked after me as I sprinted into the distance, then looked back at her companions and grudgingly turned away. The cannons started just as I reached the river.

I followed the water downhill until the curving earth hid me from the sight of the Careers. Only then did I slow, but I continued my progress until I found what I needed: a half-uprooted tree dangling over the river. I dug the mud out from between its roots and got to work making a fishing pole. A dead branch provided a start, and the younger roots were pliant enough for string. Two twigs lashed together with thread from my shirt finished the hook.

There were thirteen faces in the sky that first night. None of the Careers were there, but I wondered how long that would last. Right now, they were probably eating sweets sent to them by rich admirers, but that couldn't last forever either. As for me, I had a stomach full of fresh roasted fish and sweet water. I wasn't going to go hungry for a long, long time.

* * *

**We actually know what Mags looks like, so make a picture of her old or young as you will. I don't know if I'll write about every named Victor, since I want to leave room for your OCs, but think of this like some weird foreign universe where they all exist but I didn't write about them and your 75 Victors are also there, for a total of about 90 Victors in 75 Games... somehow.**

**I didn't know why Mags didn't talk, so I decided she had mild aphasia before the Games and that mixed with elective mutism after due to trauma.**


	14. Woof

Woof -District Eight, age fourteen

Some Tributes are too shocked to do anything but step onstage and stand there when they get Reaped. Not me. I screamed like a baby and begged the Peacekeepers for mercy as they held me in place. They ripped me away from my parents when my time was up and my escort watched me constantly after I tried to jump off the train. By the time I was in the Capitol, I wasn't any braver, but I'd given up hope of getting away.

Training was an exercise in futility for me. I didn't have any skills and I knew if I picked up a weapon I'd only hurt myself. I fiddled with knots and studied the other Tributes. Any one of them could be my killer. There was Ritz, the boy from One with the gold hair and the gray mace. There was his partner Splendor, shooting the eyes of mannequins with a curved bow. Other children enhanced their District advantages or raced to learn new ones. Then there were the Tributes like me- the young ones huddled together in corners or struggling to pick up weapons heavier than they were. They didn't even look at us. We weren't worth their time.

I got a four for my private session. I moved some rope around and showed the Gamemakers a knot. I saw in their eyes that they knew as well as I did I didn't have a chance. I didn't bother trying anything else. I'd embarrass myself further. Page tried to encourage me, but her best hope was with my partner Bobbie. At least she could run.

The night before the Games, the younger Tributes gathered together and huddled in the common room, taking comfort in each others' presence. We nestled next to each other in piles of blankets and whispered messages for our families and friends. The boy I was next to, Roberto, asked me to tell his mother he loved her. Most of the messages were similar, and we all swore to tell if by some miracle we lived. None of us got much sleep.

The Arena was hilly in one direction and grassy in the other. When the gong sounded, I ran for the knee-high grass without a step toward the Arena. Roberto died in the Bloodbath, but I didn't see it. I did see Wade, the boy from Four, impale a girl my age on his trident. I also saw a boy from last night's haven run nearby me until Splendor's arrow sprouted from his forehead.

Nine Tributes died that first night. I lay flat under the curly grass and squished as far into the gopher-ridden ground as I could. For the next week, I ate nothing but grass and drank nothing but rain. I was probably a day from starving when they called the feast.

I emerged from my hole and crept to the Cornucopia. A table was spread with all sorts of food on silver plates. Two male Tributes were already there, eating warily at opposite ends of the table. We were all that was left of the outlying Districts. They paid no attention when I snatched a handful of rolls and started devouring them. None of us heard the Careers coming.

Wade's trident caught one of the boys mid-mouthful. The boy from Two ran after the other boy at the table. As I ran for the grass, Splendor's arrow caught me below the left shoulder. I collapsed into the cover of the grass and crawled away as the others fought. I looked behind me at the trail of blood I left. I was wounded, starved, exhausted, and helpless. Whoever won this thing, it wasn't going to be me.

* * *

**I changed my mind again. Woof is here, Seeder won the 31st Games. Not everything's exactly right but I'll try to stay reasonably close. ****Sadly, there's no room for Soho. I'm sure we'll all miss him.**

**In keeping with canon, Woof was two months older than Finnick when he won. There wasn't much to go on from the books when I wrote about Woof, and I tried not to add anything, like a last name. All I got was that fans presume he outlasted everyone and mostly hid. In this story, the feast was followed by the final Career battle, since they assumed Woof's wound would kill him. All the Careers died in the battle and Woof was left as Victor.**


	15. Acee Hal

Acee Hal, District Three (15)

The platform rose to show me the Arena, and I assessed it as the timer counted down. Thick rainforest stretched out around a bronze Cornucopia. Bronze is a good conductor. That could be useful. The Careers were clustered at ten o' clock. I was small enough that they would pick off a few others before they targeted me. That was all the time I needed. I had my plan, and there wasn't any room for fear.

The gong sounded. I ran obliquely toward the Cornucopia, grabbing the nearest backpack without stopping. I pivoted and dashed into the trees, leaving the Cornucopia and its bounty behind. I tried to count the number of screams that stopped abruptly. At least six Tributes were dead, probably more. I didn't stop running until my legs started to ache. I needed to conserve some energy for finding a camp, so I slowed to a walk.

I made my camp on high ground, beneath the low branches of a thick tree. I knew mosquitoes preferred low areas, and I didn't want to deal with malaria. Most Tributes would head for water, and I would need that too, but if my pack held anything like I hoped, I would be all right. I opened it and took a look.

Inside my pack I had a compass, a simple pocketknife, a small coil of wire, a plastic bag filled with nuts, a thin foil blanket and packets of sugar and salt. What I'd really been looking for was the bag. I dumped the nuts out into the backpack and wrapped the bag around a leafy branch. By morning, transpiration would line the plastic with clean water. I had food, I had water, and I had the supplies I would use to win the Games.

After a night of rest to regain my energy, I laid out my supplies and started to brainstorm. Aside from my backpack, I also had an endless supply of wood, vines, stone, and dirt. Any one of those could be crucial. A plan started to form. It was daring and audacious, but if it worked, the Games would be mine.

I crept around to the back of the Cornucopia. The Careers were out hunting, but they knew their strategy. They'd headed for low ground to find the water most Tributes would gather around. The girl from Four was sitting in the Cornucopia guarding the supplies, but she didn't notice me in the forest behind her as I stared making my weapon.

I molded the foil blanket into a ball and poured in the packets of sugar and salt. I added any sharp bits of rock I could find and sealed the edges shut, making a package. I hooked one end of the wire through the foil and crept out to the platform behind the tail of the Cornucopia. With a little prodding, it was easy to siphon off some of the electricity used to raise the platform. I turned it back off, attached the other end of the wire to it, and waited for the other Careers.

Three cannons later, the rest of the Career pack approached the Cornucopia to regroup and relieve the Four girl. I waited for them all to disappear into its mouth and made my all-or-nothing move. I crept to the platform, threw the foil ball over the top of the Cornucopia so it dangled in front of the mouth with its wire along the bronze cone, and hit the switch on the platform just as I jumped into the air.

Electricity rushed into the wire and the heated sugar and salt exploded the foil bomb. Bits of rock and molten foil sprayed everywhere and the Cornucopia glowed and sparked as the copper conducted the electricity. Any Career touching the Cornucopia was instantly killed and the ones who weren't were caught in the explosion. If I hadn't been in the air when I hit the switch I would have been zapped with them. Four cannons were followed by pained moans and eventually the other two cannons followed. I broke the connection by stepping on the wire with my rubber-soled shoe and advanced to take my spoils. In the Games, everything's a weapon. Even something as sweet as sugar.

* * *

**Acee's smarter than I am, so this doesn't capture the extent of her ingenuity. I did the best I could by looking up old clips from Macgyver. Her bomb is based on a real recipe for a sugar bomb, but some details are fudged and the result is far more spectacular than it would be in real life. It's best not to look too closely at the details.**

**I don't have much idea what Acee looks like, but she's slight and looks sharp and clever, like a raccoon.**


	16. Lena

Lena- District Six (17)

Hide away, fade away, shrink back and disappear. My father threw open the door and lurched for the money my mother hid in the sugar jar, the money she used to buy our food and keep us clothed. She begged him to stop and their voices rose. I slid under the tablecloth as I heard her cry out in pain.

The next day we went hungry. My mother tended to my father when he stumbled back home and collapsed. Their only daughter sat aside and tried not to be in the way. She wondered if she was an only child because they didn't want any more or because they had never wanted any. They had enough trouble without a daughter. Guilt was the result of my birth and silence was my penitence.

I looked at the ground as I walked into the schoolhouse. I rarely spoke, and they rarely spoke to me. Teachers assumed I was too slow to speak up in class. The others usually didn't notice I was there. I was a ghost in the halls and a passing breeze among the students. Someone brushed against me as I walked to my desk and I jumped.

Once a week there was my only bright spot. When art class came, I smeared my feelings onto paper and watched the colors combine and shift. I didn't need to blend in here. I could fill the page with vibrant lines and swirling rainbows. Art was the only thing that felt right and beautiful. I smiled and on the inside I danced. I longed to merge into my drawings and be as bright and carefree as the colors.

I couldn't disappear when the man called my name. I had to stand in front of the crowd and hide in my own mind. I tried to make them fade like I couldn't fade myself. My mother cried as she held me. My father didn't come. I'd never have to see him again, and that almost made it worthwhile.

I hid during the parade, crouched behind the lip of the chariot and covered in gaudy fabrics. I hid during my interview, silent as the man tried to coax bravery or confidence from me. When it was time for training I found the paint station and my first friend. The woman didn't mind that I spent all day with her and drew fireworks and sunsets on her backdrop. She cheered me on and encouraged me to be bolder and brighter. She made me feel like I was worth something.

The others watched me when I was supposed to show them how I would win. I had nothing to show. I knelt down by the paints and drew a flower. Soon they lost interest and left me alone. I spread out a garden until the buzzer sounded and I had to leave. Red roses and curving orchids covered the ground for the next Tribute to see. Sunkissed leaves made the room look like a greenhouse.

When everyone started running, the gray of the rocky Arena was mixed with so much red. I slipped away beneath everyone's notice and ran over the rocks, their sharp edges scratching at my feet and hands. I stopped by a river and ran my fingers through the cool mud. I drew patterns on myself and savored my last few hours of life. I covered myself with drawings, laid down by the water, and faded away.

* * *

**I feel presumptuous messing with Canon, but I did give the female morphling a first name. I didn't want to leave her nameless forever. This conflicts with Toby being Six's only Victor because I wrote myself into a corner. Lena was already a morphling by the time my first full story, about the 23rd Games, was set, so that at least explains a little about why Toby is alone. Enjoy her story as it is and sorry about the plot hole.**


	17. Drone Othmar

Drone Othmar- District Eight (18)

Life isn't always bad in Panem. Back in Eight, my parents were both teachers, and I had plenty to eat and a comfortable house. I had a hot girlfriend and lots of friends. With my good looks and athletic ability, I was the most popular kid in school. Whether we were staging an impromptu soccer game or arm wrestling at lunch, I was always on top. A lot of good it did me now, wallowing in mud that split my skin and plastered my thick hair to my face.

None of us had ever seen an Arena like this. There were no trees, no buildings, no rocks... just mud. Thick, gloppy mud we sank into up to our knees. Ten of us died at the Bloodbath, unable to run away from the Careers who came after us. I only lived by diving under the surface and clawing through the muck like a frog. The Gamemakers must have known what they needed for a good show, because I'd seen dozens of parachutes that had to be carrying food. The constant rain provided clean water. I kept my head low and watched for other Tributes.

I never knew three days could break someone so much. At home, I was the man. I was the one who was going to grow up and play sports in the Capitol, the one who would marry his smoking hot girlfriend and have it all. Now I was the one shivering and sniffling in the mud, waiting for the Careers to find me.

"Psst!"

I peeked up and saw a muddy head emerge from the muck twenty feet ahead of me. It looked like a boy, but I couldn't be sure. "Hey, someone there?" It whispered. I started at the noise and looked around to see if the Careers were coming.

"Go away," I hissed. The boy crawled closer and held out a parachute.

"I got some corn cakes. Want to share?" he asked, far too loudly. Panic welled in me and I tried to wave him away. They'd come for us and he'd get us both killed.

"It's okay," he said. Something flickered in the corners of my vision and I shoved him down next to me.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" I whispered as I shoved him under the surface to cut off his babble. He started to squirm and I pushed him further down. He kept making noise and I cried in terror until he finally stopped. A cannon went off.

"See, they're right next to us," I whispered. The boy lay facedown in the mud and bobbed up lazily. Everything went cold when I realized the truth. I knew nothing would ever be the same for me, and a sharp coldness pierced my soul. The Careers weren't the murderers. I was.

* * *

**I gave Drone a last name in one of my fics, but for the life of me I can't find it. If anyone happens to remember, tell me and I'll change it back. For appearance, I always imagined Drone older than he would logically be. He looked like a broken middle-aged man. I imagined him white, but with darker skin, like an Egyptian.**


	18. Shelle McDan

Shelle McDan- District Four (18)

Mags told me to remember I had to survive, not just fight. I took her advice and took it one step further. I had to _win, _not just survive. There was more to the Games than fighting and killing. There were interviews to ace and crowds to please. Perhaps most importantly, there were sponsors to win.

Most Careers were aloof and superior with the other Tributes. They taunted them and told them which ones they planned to kill first. I didn't care what order they died in as long as I wasn't in it. I let the cameras catch me smiling at the younger Tributes and teaching spunky kids to hold a sword. Between sessions I mingled with the crowds and smiled like I was just so surprised they wanted to see me.

It's hard to be endearing when you're dressed as a fish. I laughed along with them and held myself just stiff enough that they could see my muscles. My image had to be perfect. I couldn't have them thinking I was just cute. I had to be cute, deadly, and most of all likeable.

Private sessions are make or break moments. I practiced as much for these five minutes as I did for the Bloodbath. There's only so good I can get at fighting, and there's only so much skill can do before luck takes over. What I _could _perfect was one routine, honed and designed perfectly to show my strengths and hide my weaknesses. I played every second of it flawlessly. I wasn't a good enough fighter to merit a score of 11, but the Gamemakers didn't see my skills. They saw my performance.

By the time the Games started the hard part was over. Lucky for me the Cornucopia was sparsely supplied this year. Food was thin for the Careers, but whatever I needed was a parachute away. I'd go off by myself to "look for food", muse out loud about my favorite dishes, and there they were. Weapons, blankets, food, medicine- my wish was their command.

Of course, appearance alone couldn't win the Games. I learned to use a variety of weapons in the Academy. I was a jack of all and an expert in none. I didn't need to kill someone skillfully. I just needed him dead. I let the people choose what weapon they sent and I saw to it they got a good show. A handful of half-starved Careers was easy picking for their one oddly well-fed member. The rest were actually harder, since I had to find them. Lucky the parachutes so helpful to me were their death warrant. I listened for the chiming, followed the floating white fabric, and did my job. In the end, I didn't win the Games. The Capitol won it for me.

* * *

**I hope giving Shelle an 11 isn't over the top. It wasn't a 12 and she wasn't the first.**

**I don't even know what Shelle looks like. I imagined her with black hair and a sarcastic, smirky look about her.**


	19. Azure Doyle

Azure Doyle- District One (18)

I always knew I was number one. I was born in One. I was a first child. Fighting came easy to me and the world was my oyster.

My parents weren't sold on the Academy at first. They didn't want me risking my looks and my talent fighting smelly boneheads after school every day. I had to convince them that being a Victor would bring me more fame and glory than being a cheap celebrity. They never could deny me anything. I set out to storm the place and show them true talent.

There were more weapons there than I knew what to do with. I started with the intent to master them all, but my first taste of humility came when I almost cut my finger off with a double-handed sword. Better a master of one than a jack in all, so I started narrowing things down. The spiked mace was too thuggish, the spear too cliché. When I held the thin, iridescent throwing knife, I knew I'd found my match. It was subtle, delicately curved, light, and lethal. It was just like me.

Outliers fear the Careers and call us brutal. We're nothing that everyone else isn't. Everyone wonders what it would be like to run a knife through flesh and watch life change imperceptibly into death. My blood stirred when I hit my first target. It burned when I pinned my partner to the ground and held my blade to his throat. We took the Games and made them ours. They wanted to destroy us by making us kill. We took their chance to murder without blame and used it to fulfill our fantasies. We were what they made us, and they couldn't blame us for enjoying it

The Capitol felt like home to me. I relished the attention of thousands of adoring fans. I bathed in the luxury and preened in the jewel-covered tunic I wore in the parade. The sessions and interviews were all I'd ever dreamed of. I charmed the crowd and gained the fame I so deserved.

The night before the Games, my stomach churned for the first time in years. This was all a mistake. This couldn't be happening. I should just go home. I shuddered under my blankets and dreaded the seconds that never stopped ticking by. I was supposed to be the best. What if it was ruined in the blink of an eye?

When the platform rose, it was do or die. Adrenaline mixed with nerves and I trembled with anticipation. The Arena faded around me when I saw the knives in the Cornucopia. Sound roared in my ears as I ran for them and one flew into my hand. My arm flexed and a blade soared through the air and landed in the forehead of a girl running my way. It was a piece of cake.

* * *

**I don't know what Azure looks like. Appearance and ethnicity is up in the air.**


	20. Peridot Clarity

Peridot Clarity- District One (18)

It was my turn to stand watch, but Danae stayed up with me. The stars were brilliant over the scrubby grass and swirling rock spires of the Arena. They contrasted with the orange sandstone and the brightness of the stone made the deep blue night sky seem fathomless.

"Make a wish," I said, pointing at the morning star.

"I wish for scrawny mutts," Danae said.

"Good choice," I said. Since we'd met in training, we'd hardly been apart. We were allied as Careers, but we stayed together as friends. It was nice to meet someone as dedicated and dreamy as I was. Her light complexion contrasted my dark skin, but our brown eyes matched like sisters. I couldn't have asked for a better ally. We watched each others backs at the Bloodbath and kept the boys in line.

"When did you decide to volunteer?" I asked. We were awake anyway. We might not have much more time to get to know each other.

"I was six. I saw that year's Amazon parade costume and I was hooked," she said. "How about you?"

"I wasn't sure until I was thirteen. I wanted to make sure I was really strong enough," I said. We watched the stars some more.

"Hey, Danae?" I asked.

"Yeah?" she responded.

"The Career pack has to break up sometime," I said. She knew I wasn't threatening her, and she turned over to listen.

"What if we took care of them now? They're all sleeping, and there are two of us," I said. She looked over at the four other Careers on their mats.

"I can take Herodotus first. You can take Shine, and then neither of us will have killed our partners. We can take Minnie and Bay together," I said.

"You think we can?" she asked.

"With two of us, we can get it done before they know what hit them," I said.

"You're right," she nodded. "But what about after?"

"I guess we stick together, kill the others, and then fight it out," I said.

In a flash, the deal was made. Danae slid to her feet and stood over my partner. She held her sword over him and I held mine over Herodotus. We brought them down at the same time and twin cannons split the night. Minnie and Bay sprang up at the noise, but Danae's sword was in Minnie's ribs before she stood up. Bay got to his trident and did a valiant job at warding us off. In the end there was nothing he could do, and my sword nearly cut off his head when he stumbled over a root.

"Great job," Danae said. She held up her hand for a high five. I pulled my sword from Bay's throat and turned, sticking it into her heart. She gasped and her eyes filled with tears as her knees folded. Before I finished the job with a final stab, I said my goodbyes.

"I'm sorry, Danae. I meant all those things I said. I just can't die for you."

* * *

**Peridot's black. Surprise.**


	21. Crag Steiner

Crag Steiner, District Two (18)

Two to go. After the split Tsu and I were the only Careers left. His face was in the sky two days ago, and I assumed either a mutt or dehydration took him out. This Arena was to place for a boy from Four. The thin scrub and dusty ground was only interrupted by a few towering cacti. If it wasn't for my sponsors I never would have lasted this long.

This year would no doubt go down in history as one of the single most brutal Games. From the dehydration that plagued us from the start, the scorching midday heat, the bizarre and unnatural dog things that snapped at our heels, only the strongest lasted more than a few days. It wasn't long before only the Career pack and three outliers were left. I took out all the Careers except Tsu, and the rest were next.

One nice thing about the Arena was that it was hard to hide. When the sun was beating down and temperatures soared, most Tributes sought out any shade they could find. I would have been glad for a respite too, but with the sunscreen a particularly thoughtful sponsor had sent, I was able to stand the conditions and continue my hunt. A few more days and I could be home again.

I saw a towering cactus in the distance. Its shadow was behind it, and I knew what I'd find. Sure enough, I heard a scuffle as whoever was lying in the shade heard me coming and took off. I saw its reddened skin as it ran, kicking up dust behind it.

I held out my mace as I ran after the figure. I didn't spend much time running at the Academy. I mostly trained with my mace and practiced close combat. Unfortunately for my prey, there was hardly a drop of water in the Arena. I had my sponsors to keep me cool, but my victim might not have drunk for hours, and that was enough out here.

It was child's play for me to run close enough to swing my mace at the figure's legs. It tumbled to the ground and I saw it was a boy. His fair skin was peeling and raw, and his blue eyes were streaming with sunlight and tears. He screamed as my mace shattered his leg and he held up his hands in supplication.

"No, please!" he begged. His voice was high and thin. He sounded like he was six years old. I couldn't imagine how someone so frail had lived this long. His luck wasn't going to last. I held my mace up over his head.

"No!" the boy pleaded. He threw his arms over his head and pressed his head to the ground.

I ignored his whimpers and brought the mace down. There was a wet crunch like rotting fruit as I slew the boy with one blow. It was just business. I was a Career, and that was what I did. His cannon went off and I moved one. One to go.

* * *

**I ain't got a clue what Crag looks like. Ethnicity, appearance, and aura are entirely up to the reader.**


	22. Soleil Pere

Soleil Pere POV- District Five (15)

I was terrified the Careers would find me, but I was hungry enough to move anyway. I needed to eat, and I pawed through the sticky pine trees for any scrap of food. I knew there had to be a few scraps, since the Gamemakers wouldn't want to watch everyone starve. I almost cried when I found the blackberry bush. It was loaded with sweet, juicy berries, and I covered my fingers with scratches picking them all off.

Realistically, I didn't have a chance, but something in my clung to life like a struggling animal. I bent over the edge of the pond I drank out of and scooped some water into my hands.

_I'm never going to make it, _I thought. Tears fell into the water as I shook in fear and defeat. I was too scared to die and too smart to hope. I thought of my parents watching me at home. I thought of my mother's pancakes and my father smiling when I came into the room. Because of a war I never fought, I would never see them again. I wanted to curl up in my soft bed and not be afraid anymore.

Mosquitoes were thick in the Arena, especially around water, and they flew around my face and hovered by my eyes. I swatted them away and emptied the plastic envelope I'd grabbed at the Bloodbath, hoping that bug spray might have magically appeared. There was nothing there but the same compass and pack of matches.

I held up the matches. It had never been cold enough for me to risk using them. I looked at the thick, needle-laden trees all around me. The sun barely peeked through the canopy. Night was just starting to chill the Arena, and suddenly it didn't seem so scary anymore.

_I'll never get out of here. Light it up. Let it burn. Take it all away. _I whispered an apology to my parents and felt my will to live dissolve. Some fights couldn't be won. I would die in a glow of warmth and light.

I found a tree with a vein of the runny sap I knew from childhood bonfires was flammable. I lit the match I'd never had to courage to light and held it up next to the trunk. The sap bubbled as it caught fire and started to creep up the tree. When it reached the thin upper branches it spread from one tree to another like a plague, and the sound of crackling wood filled the air. I lay face up by the pond and watched the flames swirl and glow.

The Arena grew hotter, and smoke filled the air. My lungs started to burn and every breath seared my throat. Something kindled inside me and I ducked, trying to go below the smoke and breathe fresh air. A burning branch fell down next to me and showered me in stinging sparks. My exhausted body started to rebel, and my heart started pounding again. I saw my death dancing above my head and recoiled from it. Instinct took over and I crawled for the cool safety of the pond. I waded deeper as the grass around the water started to smolder. The fire was so bright it was like the sun, and I crouched below the water to hide. The fire danced like a prowling demon, bent on consuming any life. I sobbed in silent panic as the heat and smoke filled the Arena, and the only thing that broke the silence was the neverending cannons.

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**That got dark. After all this time with Soleil, I only now decided that she was trying to commit suicide when she started the fire. It only makes sense that not all Tributes are brave and resourceful.**

**I don't have an appearance for Soleil either. Any color and any look goes.**


	23. Cornflower Fields

Cornflower Fields POV- District Ten, 17

My foot landed on a crack in the ground and I felt it press against my skin. Immediately I tapped the other foot against the crack, and I stepped on it twice more with both feet.

_Why did I do that?_

I'd always done it like that. It seemed wrong to do anything unevenly. If I stepped on a crack with just one foot, the other would feel back. It was the same reason I tapped all my fingers against my thumb if one happened to brush against it.

I tried to let the thought fade and got back to my work. Every day it was the same: I got up, ate breakfast at 7:00, fed the chickens two scoops of mash and the cows one bucket of grain, ate lunch at 12:00, tended the garden after lunch, took a bath if it was a Wednesday or a Saturday, and put the laundry out to dry. After that I could do whatever I wanted. Mostly I read in my room or by the hay bales.

I was just sitting on my bed when the old fear flared up. My chest clenched and I pressed my face into my pillow, trying to ward off the shapeless worry.

_I did my homework. I did my homework, _I recited in my head. I didn't have any homework, since it was summer, but it was the only thing that made the fear retreat.

Ma didn't usually try to make me play outside with the other District children anymore. It was so big and open outside of our farm. There was nowhere to hide when they looked at me. They thought I didn't like them since I didn't look at their faces and I didn't start conversations. I didn't like playing the chasing games either, since I had to touch people to tag them. People are so clammy and intense when you touch them. I didn't even really like hugging Ma, but she did it carefully and warned me before she tried. It all seemed like too much at the moment, and I decided to stay in my room.

"Cornflower," Ma called from the kitchen. I stepped across the floor with my eyes on the ground, making sure not to step on the cracks.

"Have you seen my cookbook? I was going to make molasses cakes," she said when I was done.

"No, but I know the recipe," I said. "Two cups of flour, a quarter cup of molasses, a pinch of salt, four tablespoons of butter, a teaspoon of baking powder, and a cup of milk. If you don't have baking soda you can use powder, since it has baking soda in it. You cannot use baking soda if you're supposed to use powder, though. Baking powder is baking soda has two acids in it so baking powder breads, such as biscuits, rise more slowly than baking soda breads."

"Fascinating," Ma said. I don't think she's as interested in my facts as I am. She also doesn't listen too much when I talk about the history of flight or the different parts of flowers- but not yellow ones because I hate yellow. I went back to my room and read some more.

My room was small and I liked to close the door and be away from the world. When things got really scary I hid under my blankets and pretended there was no outside. I tapped the wall and whispered old nursery rhymes.

"Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief." I wrapped my arms around my knees and tapped my head against the wall with each beat, and everything seemed right. I'd be happy if it was always like this. Nothing needs to change. I can be alone with Ma forever and do the same things every day forever. That would be perfect.

* * *

**Cornflower was seventeen in the Games, but this chapter is all over her childhood. Since her Games are fully chronicled in my other stories, I wrote about her life before. She's my avatar, and I started writing fanfiction so I could express what it's like having Autism. I make sure to tell people she's totally an author insert because it holds me accountable so I can't make her overpowered or a spotlight hog.**


	24. Peppermint Wilson

Peppermint Wilson- District Eleven (15)

Apollo and I stood back to back, both wielding a spear. I'd told him it would be better for me to look weak, but he didn't like being away from me, so I trained a little with him. That's how it is when you have a twin. You're your own person, but you're never on your own.

As far back as I could remember it was like that. Apollo and I worked in the same fields, shared a room in our tiny house, helped each other at school, and watched out for each other. When he had a cold, I picked twice as much fruit so the guards wouldn't whip him for missing quota. When we had so little food I was crying with hunger, he stole a peach and for the next week I was terrified he'd get busted and they'd shoot him. He joked that I wasn't too scared to eat the peach, and I told him if he did something that stupid again I'd save the guards the trouble.

During lunch, Apollo and I looked over our competition. There were the Careers, of course, swaggering around like they'd already won. I got the feeling they wouldn't be as brave against someone who fought back. There was a little girl from Five eating cake next to her brother, who was daring anyone to so much as look at his little sister. They were a mixed bag, and I was glad I had Apollo with me so I didn't have to worry about allies.

"What are you going to get?" I asked Apollo as we looked over the meal options.

"I don't know. There's so much stuff. The grilled chicken sandwich looks good, but so does the pot pie," he said.

"I was thinking about the pie too. What if I get that and you get the sandwich?" I asked. When you have a twin, you always get two choices.

The night before the Games, someone knocked at my door.

_Oh, who could it be? _I let Apollo in.

"Can I sleep in here?" he asked.

"Ick, we're not little kids anymore!" I said.

"Not on your _bed," _he said. "Just on the floor."

"I'll feel silly with you down there like my dog or something," I grumbled. I tore off the blankets and made a pile next to him on the floor.

"Remember, don't go starting fights just because you can," Apollo said as I tried to get comfortable.

"That's what you're for," I said. We whispered shared jokes and strategy plans long into the night. Secretly, I was more nervous than I let on. Apollo _would _start a fight, and he was sweet enough not to realize what the stakes were. Both of us swore we wanted to be the first of us to die, but I had the feeling Apollo would fight harder for that "honor". I felt like a terrible sister thinking it, and I loved him so much it hurt to think we'd be in the Games together at all. We'd always been together, and I wanted him with me for so much longer. I knew when the gong went off I'd run straight to him, and I knew he'd be there for me. I wanted it to stay like that forever.

* * *

**I didn't realize Peppermint was that young. I really must look more closely at my notes.**


	25. Erwin Jackson

Erwin Jackson- District Five (18)

To the Capitol, I was a trophy. To Colette, I was her husband, damaged in ways she couldn't understand and didn't want to make worse. To my children, I was just Daddy. They didn't remember the things I'd done, and they didn't see the pain I foresaw as they grew closer in age to the children I'd killed. I couldn't protect them from Capitol corruption when we lived so entrenched in the spotlight and in the culture. They weren't scared of me, but they should have been. They should have been horrified by what I'd done, but it was normal to them. That was even worse.

I tried to stay away from children. I was a danger to them. Yet somehow, the Capitol always found a way to bring us together. There was Yasmine, there were the others in the Capitol everywhere, and then there was Kanu. Poor Kanu, always shoved back into the limelight and dragged back out so the Capitolites could tell each other how generous they were to welcome him to their city and to give him basic necessities. They never mentioned that the reason he was there was because they killed his father. After was Galba did to him at the Victory Tour, I couldn't imagine what he felt.

I was there the day the boy watched his father die. The others were always telling him what a great actor his father was. I knew Kanu wasn't stupid. They were only building up hope that wasn't there. Kanu didn't cry for a long time. He looked so old, like life had worn him down.

"It's not pretend, is it?" he asked. We were watching with my children, Tillo's boy, and Kanu's adopted parents. The other children clammed up and his parents stepped outside to discuss what to say. Kanu was left looking at me.

"No," I said. "He's dead." Kanu was pale.

"I want him to come back," he said. That's when he started to cry.

"No one really comes back," I said. Watching him mourn, I thought of twenty-three families that did the same because of me.

"If it wasn't pretend, why did he kill those people?" Kanu asked. He wanted me to say it was all a trick, or that it didn't really happen. He wanted me to tell him his father was the hero he knew him as.

"He did it because he loved you," I said.

"I didn't want him to kill anyone," he said.

"He loved you so much there wasn't room for anyone else. I knew Shogo enough to know he never wanted to hurt anyone," I said.

"Was he a bad guy?" Kanu asked.

"He was a great man. He would have done anything for you, and he did," I said. I watched Kanu's face shift from slack sadness to taut hatred.

"They made him like this. I hate them," he said. I knew what I wanted to say, and if I was alone I would have, but I had a family to protect. Is this how they all start? They learn to hate when they're little children and cut off everything but their own desires?

"Then you have two choices. You can keep hating and you can be one of them, or you can remember his love and be who he was," I said. After that I could only watch. It was his choice.


	26. Jerky Mcjerkface

Jerky Mcjerkface, District One (18)

I've never understood why anyone would want to live in the outer Districts. They're dirty, smelly, poor, and just gross. Maybe they're just stupid. In that case, it's nice they don't live here. Worthwhile, smart people like me live here, and they're nice enough to keep away. It's survival of the fittest, and we're the top predators.

Of course I wanted to train from the moment I was born. I already had a great life. It was the only way I could move up. I'd get to be on TV and show off in front of the entire country. Sure a few people would get hurt, but them's the breaks. I was already hot, and I looked forward to seeing what a dozen stylists could do to make me really shine. It was obvious the Capitol was the place for me. It was even more glamorous and luxurious than One.

It turned out to be everything I hoped for. The people loved me and the sponsors came pouring in. I aced the interview and got in a little action with some Capitolite babes before the Games began. Honestly, the worst part was the Arena.

I'd been hoping for something more my style when the platform rose up. A mansion would have been nice, or maybe a city. Instead I got a dull forest. At least it wasn't a swamp. While the other Careers focused on stupid things like honor and kill counts, I went after what was really important. I looked over the scrawny kids darting in and out of the Cornucopia and picked a little wimp with black hair and sickly looking skin. I grabbed him as he ran past and pinned him to the ground.

"Guess what, pipsqueak. You get to be my servant," I said. The boy wiggled and tried to claw away.

"Knock it off, stupid. I don't want to kill you. You get to do all my dirty work, got it? You get to cook my food, wash my clothes, basically do everything I say. Me, I won't kill you until later. Understand?" I asked. The boy nodded blankly.

"That's 'yes, master'," I said.

"Yes, master," the boy said.

"No wait, I like 'your majesty' better," I said.

"Your majesty," the boy said. I loved the Games.

I kept my servant, from then on referred to as 'buttface', around until the Careers broke up. Then I killed him, along with the other surviving Career. It sucks when your opponent uses a bow and doesn't care about honorable combat. The only other Tribute left by then was some dope from I don't know where. It was easy to find him and plug him, especially since the Gamemakers pushed us together so things would stay interesting. Then it was time to reap the rewards.

Being a Victor is great. I don't know why more people don't do it. I get money and prizes and all the tail I want. The only problem is my company. The other Victors are such drips. They always whine and they burst out crying over the slightest things. What a bunch of babies. I tried to spend as little time as possible with them. As for me, I had it all. I was famous, I was rich, and I was hot. Everything was as it should be.

* * *

**Oh dear. You can see why I didn't write Jerky's Games. They're too depressing.**


	27. Megara Wesson

Megara Wesson, District Two (18)

What a waste. When the platform rose and I saw the scratchy grass and skinny bushes all around me, I thought it was a dream come true. It was everything I'd worked all my life for. I saw the other Tributes watching me with terror in their eyes and I gloried in it, because they were right. I was coming for them all.

The Bloodbath was glorious chaos. I found my sword and found my target. The little girl from Five was trying to get to the water bottles inside the Cornucopia. I gave her what she deserved for being so weak and stupid. She dropped her loot when she saw me coming.

"No! Stop!" she screamed. She backed away until she tripped over a backpack and fell. She cringed and covered her face with her arms. "Daddy! Please, Daddy!"

Most of the Tributes ran. We only got six in the Bloodbath. The first night we got more. There was a big alliance of the farthest Districts. We cut through them like paper. The cannons shook the night and didn't stop until morning.

It was the perfect Arena. There was nowhere to hide. Tributes could only run when they saw us coming. But we were faster and we were stronger. I could watch the panic mount as they saw me getting closer. A vague premonition kept flashing in my head as I killed, but it didn't bother me.

It was an unexpected present to see a tiny boy hiding in a bush. I walked by his perch like I didn't see him, then snagged him by the collar and dragged him out. The sounds mixed as I did my work. First there was a gasp, then a thump as he hit the dirt. His high scream cut off as my blade slid into his throat, and there was a click as his spine severed. Then there was only the faintest drip as his blood leaked off my sword.

As I looked at him, I became aware that others were looking at me. The cameras were certainly on anyone who made a kill. Panem was watching me. I was the star of the show. I wondered what they thought as they saw me perform.

_His father sees a monster that stole his son. His District sees the Grim Reaper who comes ever year. _I didn't expect the thought to be troubling. He was weak. I was strong. It was the way of the world. I knew the Capitol loved me.

_But the rest of Panem doesn't._

The rest of Panem was weak. They were cringing farmers who couldn't get the job done and couldn't bear the consequences. The ones in power loved me. I was their champion. I killed the boy below me as easily as tying my shoe. I killed him.

_The Capitol loves me. Districts hate me. They do it for the same reason. Because I'm a murderer._

Murder. Only the weak thought it was always bad. But who is strong in Panem? The Capitol. The murderers. They killed us, too. It wasn't just the poorer Districts. The Dark Days split Panem into pieces and tore families apart. And that's what I did to the boy. I tore his family apart. The pain didn't end when he died. It only began. Panem's hero was what we all dreaded.

Everything was different after that. I knew the Capitol wasn't on my side after all, not after what I knew. I saw that when the others were gone, I was next. The people I thought were my friends all had a list in their heads, and I was on it somewhere. I wasn't one of them anymore, even if they didn't know it. I knew what we were doing, but I stayed with them. I was a coward. I didn't want to die. I didn't want done to me what I done to four other children.

Pray looked at me like I was the hero I used to think I was. She wanted me to teach her how I did it- how I became a monster. I told her the truth and her lip curled in contempt. I watched her back as she turned away, the ultimate insult where we were from. The Devil take her.

The Devil take _me._

* * *

**I accidentally switched Megara and Amazon, but I put Megara here so it would be easier for people to read her chapter. I shall switch them backa fter a few days.**

**The Wiki is still on, it's just slow going because it's complicated. I hope to get a link soon because I don't care if it isn't done. I just really want to see it.**


	28. Pray Jager

**Look out, I said a BAD WORD!**

* * *

Pray Jager, District Two (15)

Another year, another two Tributes. After you've won the Games, there's really nowhere left to go. I'd torn a boy apart with knives on my hands. I'd slit another boy's throat and shot an arrow into a girl's head. Extreme sports and philanthropy were dull as paint. Even training didn't have the same zest as the Games.

I often found myself wandering the Capitol at night. It was the only time such a fake, glitzy metropolis seemed interesting. I liked to see the seedy underbelly they'd rather keep hidden. Even paradise had strip joints and drug dealers. I could almost pretend I was scared walking the bad part of town.

"Hey baby, can I have a ride?" someone asked from behind me. I flipped him off over my shoulder and didn't even turn.

"I don't think you want to do that," the man said. Another man slunk out of an alleyway in front of me. I heard the click of a switchblade and smiled. Before, it was two punks who weren't worth my time and hardly deserved my wrath. Now I had an excuse.

"What do you want?" I said as I turned to face the first man. A streetlight illuminated him and I stood in its shadow. He stepped forward.

"First, your purse. Maybe more," he said. He reached out to snatch my bag. I clamped my fingers around his wrist and curled them like a vise. Five pointed talons burst through his skin and grew slick with blood. The man yelped and I slammed into him, knocking him back and bringing me into the light, which bounced off my hand.

"Oh shit, it's Silver Claws," the thug behind me said. The man I was holding whimpered and tried to twist his hand to slash me. I squeezed harder until he dropped the knife.

"Help me, man!" he called to his partner. The other man reluctantly stepped closer and looked at me. I flashed him a glare and he stood still. The second I took my eyes off the first man, he brought his other hand up and punched my jaw. My head snapped back and I dropped his hand. He grabbed me in a bear hug and tried to pin my arms to my sides. I wasn't stupid enough to consider any fight easy. No matter how weak the opponent, he could get lucky. I craned my lower arms and sank my claws into his sides. He pushed me back and I almost lost my balance. He tried to punch me again and dodged around him sideways. I slammed a palm into his throat and he doubled over. I brought my knee up into his stomach and he collapsed the rest of the way to the ground. I kicked him in the ribs and he tried to curl on his side. I knew he was beaten. I could have left him then and gone on my way. Unfortunately, I didn't feel like it.

"Not you," I said. I put a foot on his throat and lifted the other. I felt the crack as his vertebrae snapped, his windpipe collapsed, and the life left him. His last breath escaped in a rattle and I stepped off of him. I turned to the other man, who was trembling and was an instant from bolting.

"You," I said. I held his gaze and he got my message. He didn't run, but he backed away as I came until he was pressed against the wall of a building. I stood on my toes as I looked at him, noting the humor of the situation. I was a foot shorter than he was, yet he was the one quailing in fear.

"No, please don't," he said. He started to cry and I almost felt bad for him. I took his chin in my hand and ran a claw along his jawline. I smiled again.

"Tell the devil Pray sent you," I said. My hand flashed along his cheek and I carved a diagonal slash in his cheek. I only wanted to scare the crap out of him, and it worked. He actually fainted before I even finished the cut. I left him slumped in the alleyway and continued my walk. It was the most fun I'd had in years.

* * *

**Pray was fifteen when she won, but this took place some time later. It's weird writing someone so different from me. I have to remind myself that Pray is merciless. I always want people to just get wounded and never die, but Pray would straight up kill someone for looking at her funny.**


	29. Rudolph Shmits

Rudolph Shmits, Unknown District (16)

Sometimes I felt like I was the luckiest boy in the world. Sure, I got Reaped, but I was the only boy in the District who was totally prepared for it. I'd always loved trapping things, ever since we got rats in our storeroom and I rigged up a snare with some old cardboard and a bottle of glue. I didn't like thinking about them stuck in there until I happened to check, so the next one included spikes. It was better to get things done quickly.

Sure the Arena sucked, but it worked out for me. The rocks served as counterweights and precariously balanced triggers, and the thin trees were anchors for my ropes. I caught my first Tribute on the second day. It was the boy from Four. He wandered a little too far from the pack and learned his lesson too late.

Traps don't only catch Tributes. The only food I had from the Cornucopia was a single bread roll. Bad luck for some people, maybe, but just what I needed. In such a barren arena, what wildlife there was came running at the slightest crumb, and they ran right into my snares. I had a steady supply of lizards and scrawny rats. I'd spent a fair amount of time at the survival station. When I told the attendant I was willing to do anything to survive, he saw I meant it. There wasn't any water in the Arena, as far as I knew, but I didn't need it. Blood is mostly water, after all. It also contains iron, vitamins, and minerals, since the life of an animal is in its blood. It made me sick and it tasted disgusting, but I was alive longer than any of the others.

The people always want a good show. They cheer when the final two battle it out with blood and limbs flying, like last year. I couldn't improve on that, and I didn't try. Sometimes the Games don't end with a bang. Sometimes they end with a whisper, as the final boy walks up to the final girl where she dangles upside-down in a tangle of ropes. Lucky me, Victor of the Twenty-Ninth Hunger Games.

And that was just the start. After that came riches and fame, and anything I wanted in all of Panem. As it turned out, the one thing I ended up wanting was the only thing I couldn't just take. But it was all right. Pray wanted me as much as I wanted her. And that's why I'm the luckiest boy in Panem.

* * *

**Rudolph's is shorter than some. I didn't actually invent him. Pray's submitter sent him in as her boyfriend, which might have made it harder for me to know his personality.  
**


	30. Tillo Peters

Tillo Peters- District Eight (16)

I kept quiet as I sewed. Children were to be seen and not heard. Little girls were supposed to do their chores and help their parents. If they wanted to hear me, they'd ask me a question.

I wanted to be a good little girl. I wanted to be a good example for my sister Puridee and a good example for my parents. There were just so many things to remember. I had to make sure I dressed appropriately and respected my elders. I had to be polite to my parents' friends, even when they were rude to me. I had to keep my clothes clean and my face washed. People were going to judge my family based on me. I had to keep up a good appearance.

I wished I was better at the things my parents expected me to do. I didn't like sewing. It was hard to sit still for that long. I wanted to go outside and do something silly, like throw rocks. Of course I wasn't going to, but sometimes I felt trapped in my own house. My mother took the sock I was darning and examined it.

"You're getting better. Look how small these stitches are. You'll make a good wife someday," she said. Always "a good wife". That was all they ever talked about. Boys had all the luck. They got to get dirty and go wherever they wanted. I'd rather be a boy than a wife.

It wasn't polite to think things like that. I was supposed to think about others and how I could help them. But if I was supposed to think about others, then they were supposed to think about me and what _I _wanted. I didn't understand why the rules had to be so strict. The world wasn't going to fall apart if I played catch with the boys or had a tear in my dress.

Puridee sat on the floor playing with a ribbon while I worked. Even she wasn't as constrained as I was. Little boys were allowed to do almost anything they wanted, since "boys will be boys". Girls were supposed to play quietly, but at least Puridee was allowed to play. I wished I was still as little as she was.

I finished the sock and put it on the laundry pile. There were still dishes to wash, and then I'd have to study or play with my doll. I'd never liked that stupid bundle of rags. I could have more fun with a rock, trying to see how far up a tree I could throw it. I was getting too old for dolls anyway. My mother said I'd "become a woman" soon. I didn't look forward to it. Children were allowed to do what they wanted sometimes. Adults had responsibilities. I knew my parents would start talking about who I should marry, and I didn't know how to tell them I didn't want to marry at all. I wasn't always the good girl they thought I was. I tried my hardest, but I felt the most like me when I failed.


	31. Seeder

**Seeder's year doesn't match with Canon just because I didn't get everything right. I gave her a last name just for looks.**

**Also, I noticed a few questions in the reviews, so I can answer them! Rudolph is listed as "unknown District" because he was submitted by a reader who did not specify his District and I didn't want to assume. Based on his personality and technique, he's likely from a Career District or one of the wealthier ones. Nine and Twelve don't have any Victors yet because I left them empty for the 23rd Games because I thought it was likely some Districts might still be victorless. After that my Victors were from SYOTs and Nine and Twelve didn't happen to win. Twelve does have a Victor now. I just haven't reached him yet.**

* * *

Seeder Graze- District Eleven (17)

The Hunger Games isn't about killing. It's about surviving. After the first few days, most of us had no energy to kill. A lot of us didn't have the energy to live. The Arena was temperate, but its rolling, grassy hills gave little cover and little sustenance. Some of us must have tried to kill the towering, shaggy mutts that stampeded across the Arena one day, but the cannons showed what happened to them.

All my time was taken up just by living. I didn't even have time to be afraid. Every morning when I woke up, I gathered my scattered clothes from where I'd lain them across the grass and sucked the dew from them, barely taking the edge off my thirst. I crawled around in circles swiping them across the wet grass to get more water, until I was strong enough to get up. I put my clothes back on, grateful there wasn't anyone around to see me in my underwear and painfully aware that everyone back home is watching.

The next thing I needed was food. To most people, the grass beneath our feet seemed like just that, but I knew to look closer. I could pick the grass blades apart from the yucca and alfalfa that would provide me just enough nutrition to survive. I felt like the bison mutts that roamed the Arena as I tore clumps of grass from the ground and ate them as bits of dirt stuck in my teeth.

The Gamemakers must have been disappointed this year. They must have thought the Games would be over quickly in such an open, exposed Arena. What really happened is that after the first day, when half of us died, the rest of us ran so far that the Careers couldn't find us scattered across the Arena. Two of the Careers died the first day the mutts stampeded, and I'd been hidden between two hills ever since. I could tell the Gamemakers were getting impatient, since the mutts were stampeding more and more often. If they came for me, there was nothing I could do.

_Nothing _was what I was doing most of the time. If I wasn't gathering water or eating grass, I was lying still on the ground to conserve energy. I could see myself wasting awayon a starvation diet of unrefined grass. My veins stuck out harsh against my skin and my knees clacked together when I slept.

It was almost comforting in its routine. Get up, drink, eat, sleep, wait for rain, eat, sleep. Listen for Careers or Mutts. Hear them in the distance and hope for cannons. Every second was taken up by the everyday business of keeping my body running.

Another Career was in the sky that night, the latest victim of the mutts. I fantasized about the meat on their massive bodies. I wanted to tear into it without even cooking it, without even taking the fur off. I imagined it filling my stomach like it hadn't been full in two weeks. I could hardly imagine winning. I'd forgotten what it was like outside the Arena. If I ever got there again, I knew what I'd do. I'd drink, I'd eat, and I'd sleep.


	32. Sky Levings

**Sky's second POV takes place within a year after her Games. She has since begun to heal.**

* * *

Sky Levings- District Five (17)

_I can do it. _I'm smart. I'm capable. I have as much chance as anyone else, and a lot more than some people. I could win it all and get out of here. I could have anything I wanted and live in the Capitol, in the lap of luxury.

I wouldn't kill the younger Tributes, only the ones that deserved it. Only the Careers and anyone else who tried to kill me. They had it coming anyway. They'd kill all the others, I'd kill them, and I'd be home free.

There _were _some things to worry about. There was the Bloodbath. I might not be fast enough. But I'd run a few races in my time. I just had to be faster than the slowest Tributes. I didn't want my family to worry back home, but I'd make up for it when I took them all to the Victor's Village.

It was such an easy decision. Here, I had nothing to look forward to but a life of poverty and backbreaking work. This was my only chance for more. I'd have to hurt some people to get there, but they would have died anyway. I was tired of everyone overlooking me and getting lost in the crowd. It was time to go big. I was going to blow them all away.

"I volunteer!"

* * *

_What have I done?_

I said I was only going to kill the ones who deserved it. I wanted to blow up the Careers and have all of Panem see me win the Games. I did it, too. _Oh god, I did it._

Margo wasn't a monster. Rapture wasn't a monster. Alex wasn't a monster. I didn't care when I killed them. It was Priscilla who taught me. Priscilla, who was more human and more noble than I ever was.

"_You killed my little sister, you know. Kiko, don't avenge us." _She didn't even hate me. She spent her last minutes trying to help someone else. I watched her die and I knew what I was.

The Careers were victims more than any of us. All their lives they were told to kill and hunt. They never knew it was wrong and they never had a chance at a normal life. They lived in the richest Districts and all they cared about was killing those with less. They were like dogs beaten and urged into savagery. But Priscilla lived through all of that. She was a loving sister to the end. If she'd had it her way, she and Kiko would be playing Hoops now.

They didn't know. It was a Game to them. It was destiny to them- the only way to have value. I knew. I knew all along it was wrong to kill. I watched them kill and I felt the pain when we lost our children year after year. Instead of thinking of my family, I thought of myself. I thought of _my _chance at glory and _my _ticket to riches. I thought of killing, but not the people I would kill.

_I planned it. I looked forward to it. They were pushed into this by parents and everyone around them. No one did that to me. I volunteered because _I wanted to.

I volunteered.

My mind recoiled at the horror. I shied away from the thought over and over, but it was always there.

Mars said it wasn't my fault, but he didn't know why I volunteered. I'd never tell him. He could never forgive me for that, and I couldn't bear to lose his friendship. He said I couldn't bring them back by blaming myself. He meant to emphasize that I shouldn't blame myself, but what I heard is that I couldn't bring them back. My decision was made in a single instant, but the consequences were permanent. I could never put it back.

Whose fault was it if it wasn't mine? I was the one who volunteered to kill. I could see Priscilla change for the better in the Games. At the same time, I changed for the worse. I wasn't killing monsters. I was the monster.


	33. Beetee Latier

Beetee Latier- District Three (18)

_Everything is a weapon._

That's what Acee was always telling me. But I wasn't smart like she was. I couldn't see how a pencil, a bed sheet, a lemon, and a fork could become a rocket. I was smart in my own way. I saw the messages buried in a line of zeroes and ones. I could hear wires and cathodes telling me what they wanted to become, and putting them together was like tying my shoes.

I could see all the machinery in the tube around me as I rose. I felt the servos grinding underfoot as they lifted me into the air tooth by tooth. As the timer appeared in the sky, I could look past it and see the switch tapping a circuit open and shut to signal each passing second. When I saw the Arena, I knew what I needed to do.

I caught my District partner and ally's eye. Galvani was obviously thinking the same thing I was: _metal. _Anything metal we could find, we needed. The Cornucopia was floating atop a muddy, soupy swamp. Irregular patches of marshy ground interrupted the mire. I searched the detritus around the Cornucopia for any glint of the metal we could use to take all our opponents down at once. In this Arena, even a dropped flashlight could mean death. My eyes fell on a gleaming dagger next to a coil of heaven-sent wire. Galvana and I tensed to grab it as the seconds counted down.

When the gong rang, I pushed off the platform and dove into the waist-deep water. The rest of us were divided between swimming and wading, and with the lesser resistance of my dive, I was among the first to the supplies. Galvani, who was across the circle from me, reached the coil at almost the same moment I did. I grabbed the sword as she took the coil. Mud and water flew through the air as the others started to fight.

An arrow flew into her back and she fell forward across the coil, pressing it underneath the water even with its buoyant casing. I pushed it up and examined her as she lay across it. She was limp, and her breath was so shallow I could barely discern it in the chaos and the screaming. There was nothing I could do, and I knew she'd want me to be prudent. I eased the coil from her weak grasp, took the knife, and ducked under the water.

There were ten cannons that first day. None of them belonged to the Careers. I started to form my plan and its all-important schedule. _When _a battle was fought was as important as _how _a battle was fought. If I attacked the Careers too early, even if I won, one of the other strong Tributes might come for me. It was important to wait until there were fewer opponents left to fight. But if I waited too long, the Careers would fracture and split. I wouldn't be able to attack all of them at once, and the remainder would be far stronger than I was.

When there were six of us left, then I would make my move. They wouldn't want to split before they'd thinned the crowd more than that. Until then, I'd hide and stay alive. Finding water would be easy in this Arena. Purifying it would be easy for me. I knew a couple of edible water plants, and frogs would be both plentiful and easy to catch.

Acee was right. Anything could be a weapon, and everything was a weapon. My weapons were time, planning, and a coil of wire.

* * *

**Beetee and Seeder don't need descriptions, since they're from the books.**


	34. Kazuo Braun

Kazuo Braun POV

The Victor's Village in One was full of people. When I moved in, I took the house farthest in the middle, as far away from the open grass as I could.

It was hard to know what to do with myself as a Victor. I knew the Victors from the poorer Districts went around giving money to people. Most everyone here was already wealthy, and I was barely a celebrity with so many other Victors already here. Not that I wanted that much attention anyway.

When the sun started to set, it wasn't hard to occupy myself anymore. I went throughout the house drawing all the shutters and closing the windows. I turned on every light in the house and huddled in my bed, which I'd set into a low recess in one wall, out of reach of clawed hands. That was when the memories came back. I hated the noises of the house settling- the noise of fingernails scraping against branches as I tried to hold on. A leaf blew against the window, the sound of rustling papery wings. I tried to always have someone at my house at night, usually Azure. He was as arrogant as all the Victors from One, but he could see I wasn't like the others. He usually didn't give me any grief.

When the sun was out, it wasn't so bad in the Village. Lots of Victors walled themselves up and never left in the outer Districts. I liked being with other people. I felt safer when I wasn't alone. I went out to get groceries, even though I could have had them delivered. I made appearances at the Academy and endorsed products. Sometimes I stayed out late partying with the other Victors in well-lit bars and drank until I wasn't scared anymore or I passed out.

The sun was still high in the sky when went out to spend a day in town. I checked out the door before I went, and I swept the area every few minutes just to make sure. I reached the gate of the village and

_A shadow in the sky above me_

I screamed and fell to my knees, scrunching as small as I could. I crossed my arms in front of my face and neck as I fell backward onto the grass. I crawled next to the stone fence and shoved into the bushes that grew along it. Their thin branches scratched and pushed back at me as I carved a refuge. I smashed my head on the stones in my frenzy to burrow to safety and turned myself around sideways to look out at what was behind me. I trembled and dragged my fingers through the dirt to dig a deeper, safer nest.

A goose flew nearer and over my hole. I saw its wings were covered in soft feathers, not naked skin. It didn't even notice me as it disappeared. I stopped digging and crouched in the bushes. My heart started to slow, and my breathing stabilized. I collected myself and crawled out of the bushes. I stood and brushed the leaves from my clothes.

It was nothing I wasn't used to. There were good days and there were bad days. When the bad days came, the only thing to do was gather up the pieces and carry on. As time went by, they came farther apart. When it happened this time, I remembered thinking about how pretty the goose's feathers were as it went over my head. Someday I'd be able to appreciate birds again, and the night sky, and so many more things. What happened was behind me. More and more, I was able to leave it there.

* * *

**Kazuo is Asian, natch. He usually carries a blue rose.**


	35. Bambi Kirkland

Bambi Kirkland, District Ten (18)

Only happy endings in my books. No books where children die and people are scared. There's enough of that in the real world. My books are filled with friendships that last forever and problems always get solved in the end. No dead dogs, no dead mothers, no dead friends. Everyone's happy in my books.

Since the Games, my tastes in books had become much less mature. I liked picture books with pretty drawings and simple stories. I liked fairy tales where brave heroes overcame great odds and saved the one they loved. I liked silly little stories about mundane things like baking cakes or playing by a creek.

My books were set in a faraway world. There were no happy endings in Panem. My books took place in some place with no Hunger Games and where children didn't have to worry about names in a bowl. In my stories the hero didn't carry his friend away from a fire and never know the smoke already took her breath away. There were no hunters waiting to find you in the night and no monsters that dragged you into their lairs and filled your body full of wriggling eggs. Nothing like that happened in the stories I wrote.

Books were the only thing that made Panem worthwhile. I could leave the Games behind and go into any story I wanted. I could forget about what I did and pretend I could still be a hero. Heroes didn't kill children like cattle.

Labyrinth sat next to me whenever I wrote. He peeked over the desk and watched to make sure I didn't get too sad. He must have been able to smell my emotions, because whenever I started writing a sad story and started to feel down, he'd snatch the paper off the table and rip it up. Otherwise, he was perfectly behaved.

It took a long time for me to want to mingle with the rest of Ten. Cornflower wasn't exactly a good example. When I finally went out, I was surprised that everyone liked me. I got a lot of prizes for Ten, but that didn't excuse what I did in the Arena. It seemed like everyone forgot about that part. A lot of them had my books, and lots of the kids wanted me to sign them. It felt good to know reading my stories made people happy. It was good to bring something nice into Panem. There was a lot of bad to balance out. It was going to take a lot of writing.


	36. Wiress

Wiress, District Three (Unknown)

The Arena, which resembled a battlefield from the Dark Days, was probably two square miles. The platforms seemed random at first glance, but it wasn't that simple. It was clear the Gamemakers had used a simple algorithm to ensure the cruelest Careers stood next to the little children and the others stood near the greatest threats. That left me out of the danger zone and gave me time to analyze the Cornucopia.

The Cornucopia was golden in color, like most Cornucopias. It was likely an alloy of bronze and iron and was only plated with gold, since pure gold was far too flexible to make a structure. It would still be a good conductor and could prove useful if I could find a way to take advantage of its properties.

There were many useful things in front of the Cornucopia. I was a small enough target to be able to risk a few minutes gathering supplies. The first thing I wanted was the lighter. Nearer my platform there was a roll of tape and a tiny knife. A small javelin farther in would have been ideal to have, but it wasn't worth the risk. When the gong sounded, it was easy to get the handful of things I needed and dart away.

I chose a dilapidated, nearly entirely demolished house as my home base. As expected, the faucets didn't work, but the pipes were still full when I dug them out of the ground. I broke off a section of pipe under the sink and got the final piece I needed for my plan. It was an elementary design, but my primitive materials and stressful environment made it a welcome challenge.

I knew where I stood in the hierarchy of targets. I didn't have to worry about the Careers looking for me until I heard eleven cannons. I counted them off as I worked and finished with plenty of time to spare. A circuit board yanked from the rusted wiring in the wall of the house provided the trigger. The pipe from the sink was the barrel. The tip of the lighter ignited the fuse, and my bullets were crumpled wads of the siding from the roof barely a foot above my head. When I tested my invention on the wall across from me, I nearly set the house ablaze. I was ready.

The Careers didn't come as soon as I expected. I knew they'd search every house and that most of the Tributes of my caliber would be hiding inside. I had enough time to surreptitiously douse the exterior of my headquarters with water from the pipes. I was lucky my Games was on the shorter side, because in two weeks all the food I got was the cockroaches I found skittering around at my feet. I roasted them with what was left of the lighter to avoid parasites. Sometimes I heard screams and something that sounded large enough to flatten my house, but I never looked outside to see what it was.

In the end, it wasn't the Careers that found me. The first to cross my path was a little boy from one of the far Districts. I watched from under a pile of rubble as another boy beat him to death with a broken plank. I didn't want any trouble, but when the second boy saw me, there was nothing to do. I shot him as he ran at me and proved once and for all that my weapon was sufficient.

The last one whose face I hadn't seen in the sky was the boy from Two. He used a spear, and he never missed. When I saw he and I were the only two left, I abandoned my shelter. I walked out into the open and wandered an exposed part of the Arena. He didn't have to hide, and I knew he'd find me quickly.

It was the perfect shot. There I was, standing in the middle of a barren stretch of land, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. I didn't even try to flee as he came closer, and he didn't even bother to run.

Most people can throw a spear about 200 feet. A gun shoots much farther.

* * *

**Wiress' HG Wiki form said she was a genius. I tried to measure up to that. As far as I know, she's the only one in Hunger Games history to construct a firearm- specifically, a projectile taser.**


	37. Amazon Stonn

Amazon Stonn, District Two (18)

Nothing is free in life. Everything you have you take. You fight for what you want and if you're strong you get it. If you're weak, there's no place for you in Two.

I didn't need school. Books and art are useless ornaments. I left them for the weaklings in Three. All that mattered was the Academy. The Academy taught us what we needed to know and made us who we needed to be. I took my place in formation and the morning drills began.

"Who are we?!" the drill instructor shouted down at us from his platform.

"We are District Two!" a hundred voices shouted in unison. They resounded together and made us one solid force.

"Why are we here?" he yelled. His voice was high and thin from years of shouting. It was like a ragged, bloody whistle.

"To fight!" we responded.

"Why do we fight?" the instructor yelled.

"To kill!" we answered.

"What do we do?" the instructor yelled.

"We kill!" we shouted. Over and over we repeated it. I felt my blood boiling as our voices rose to a fever pitch. My muscles ached to break out and tear something apart. The instructor silenced us by holding up a single arm.

"At attention!" he commanded. A hundred arms raised in the air, waiting for his command.

"Reach out and touch someone!" he shouted. We all sucked in a breath and launched our fists forward, stopping inches behind the student in front of us. We all released our breath as we did, channeling the exhaled air into power and fury. We practiced our strikes and our dodges until the instructor released us to the track. We marched to the lanes in perfect formation, and the instructor ran ahead of us as he kept us in time.

"Up every morning with the rising sun!" he blared in a rhythmic chant. We repeated the lines back at him and the ground shook as our feet drummed on the ground.

"Gonna fight all day till the day is done!" he continued. Marching was one of my favorite parts of training. I loved the precision and the staggering unity of it all. It always showed me how Two could have so many Victors.

"Kill them, maim them, cut them through!" the instructor continued. We picked up the pace and anticipated the final line.

"Bring it home for District Two!" we echoed. We sprinted through the last line and halted at the final note. As much as I loved marching, I couldn't wait to begin the close combat training. Every day we learned something new, and every day I was stronger.

We paired off and I knelt in front of my partner. We were learning blood chokes. The instructor told us they were much faster, more damaging, and more reliable than oxygen chokes. Then he jabbed a finger at us and snarled.

"Remember, when you feel it working, _tap out. _I do _not _want one of you worms to faint like a little baby. If you forget to tap, I will personally drag your unconscious carcass around the room in front of everyone!" he said. I felt humiliated just thinking about it, and I made an extra note to tap. I mentally begged my fellow students to obey as well. I'd be embarrassed just watching someone else go through that.

My partner, a hulking boy with a beard, hooked his arm around my neck and adjusted it to the spot the instructor indicated. I felt my artery pulsing against his arm as he slowly tightened his grip. It was like a snake constricting around me and I started to feel the effects. My head seemed to grow warmer and pressure built behind my eyes. I started to see stars and tapped my partner's arm. He let go immediately and I tipped forward like I'd nodded off. My head jerked back and I caught myself against the ground. I hauled myself up and we switched places. I wondered how long it would take and was thrilled when my partner tapped out after only a few seconds.

Nothing was better than training. I felt in my bones that I was doing what I was meant to do. I was contributing to my District and making a difference. Everything I needed was right there. For the glory, for the power, for the honor, I would always fight.

* * *

**Bragging alert: This one came right from my weekend with the Marines. I loved the marching, and I just changed a few words from our actual chant. That's also my exact experience with learning to choke a guy, right down to my drill instructor's threat. I really did almost faint, which was actually a rush. Looking back, Marines are hardcore. This is what they must look like to their enemies. **


	38. Porter Millicent Tripp

Porter Millicent Tripp- District Five (Unknown)

The Arena was lovely this year. The mountains around the Cornucopia dipped into pristine lakes ringed with pine trees. The slopes were covered in blackberry and blueberry bushes thick with berries. It was going to take a long time to find a Victor, and none of us were going to die naturally.

It wasn't the Careers this time around. One night, I saw the mutt that I later learned took more than half of us out of the competition. The moon lit its silhouette and I pressed close behind a tree as it sauntered across the slope above me. It was as large as a bear, but as long and sinuous as a mountain lion. Its ears were pointed and its massive paws had claws as wide as my fingers. It tail twitched in the air. Later that night, I heard its scream. It was always hard to tell whether the noises belonged to it or its victims.

This was all supposed to be a punishment, but I'd gotten a taste of something I never wanted to give up. When I saw the colors and the wonderful new styles in the Capitol, I fell in love. I adored my stylists and I relished each new and exotic garment as it slid across my skin. No two people ever looked the same, and something happened every minute.

I wanted to win the Games so I wouldn't die, but that wasn't what I thought about in the Arena. I wanted to win so I could be part of the Capitol forever. No more throwing boxes onto a train to make a living. I wanted silk and satin and rainbow glitter. I wanted to look beautiful and be adored wherever I went.

The days dragged on. I ventured farther and farther up my mountain, until the air was so thin I could barely breathe. The Careers would start from the bottom, and the mutt might be too large for the thin air. Between scares, there were long stretches of time when nothing happened. I set some blueberries on a rock and crushed them with another. I lined my eyes with dye and decorated my cheeks with dots, just like the style in the Capitol. They must have liked me as much as I liked them, because they sent me a jacket and a makeup kit. Then I loved them even more.

I thought it was all over when the last Career found me. I ran until I was backed against the edge of a cliff. The boy grabbed me to throw me off. I tried to pull away and he tumbled off with me. There was that horrible feeling when you fall backward in a chair, and then my stomach dropped out. I bounced off a rock on the way down and he lost his grip.

I thought it would hurt when I hit the ground, but I didn't feel anything at all. I couldn't move anything below my head. I cranked my head to the side and saw the Career boy lying ten feet away from me. His rib stuck out of his skin, and his breath bubbled with blood. He was twitching. Blood spread from underneath him, and rivulets of it soaked into my pants.

It was going to take a long time to find a Victor. One of us was going to die naturally.

* * *

**The only thing I could find about about Porter was that she suffered a neck injury. Falling off a cliff does that to you.**


	39. Nubu Sanders

Nubu Sanders- District Twelve (18)

Everyone needs a hero. When things are dark and it seems good will never return, we need something to depend on. In Twelve, it was Jack the Giant Slayer. Jack was poor, but he was clever. When giants came and threatened his town, he faced them head-on and he always won. I always knew they were just stories, but they didn't have to be real. Someone made that up, and that meant someone thought they _could _have been real. Someone believed in right defeating wrong and a world where heroes always won. If someone believed it could be true, we could work to make it true.

I'd seen heroes in the Games. I watched a little boy stay by his patient's side until a nightmare creature with wings and fangs wiped them both away. I saw a girl run toward a spider the size of a bear to push a little girl to safety. Even the Capitol couldn't tell those people that they decided wrong and right and that life wasn't valuable. There are heroes in the world. The Capitol does its best to weed them out.

Some people call me a hero. They don't know everything. They saw how close my allies and I were. They didn't know I joined the alliance because I thought it would give me a better chance to win. I didn't care about them at first. I only started to because I got attached to them. A hero cares for everyone, not just the people he likes. The people think I was brave because I didn't seem scared. I didn't seem scared because I was arrogant. I thought I had a good chance. I did win, but not without the help of my allies and a lot of sponsors.

Heroes don't win the Games. The best of us don't return from the Arena. If I was a hero, a little girl wouldn't have died in my arms. I got two things from my sponsors: a shield and a machete. A shield defends, and so does a hero. A machete attacks, and that's how I won the Games. Not by being a hero, but by being someone else's villain.

Of course Twelve's first Victor would be a District celebrity. It would have happened to anyone, not just a "hero". The children flocked around me whenever I went into town. They held up garbage lid shields and asked me to play with them. I hoped none of them wanted to grow up to be like me. I was glad if I made the Reapings less scary, but I didn't want any of them to think the Games were heroic.

It was scary to have such influence. I could have told them to throw rocks and people and they'd do it for their hero. Whatever I really was, I tried to use my powers for good. Over and over I told them that heroes never start fights or hurt people. They use their shields, not their swords. They never asked me why that rule didn't apply to me in the Games. I wished they would, so they'd see I wasn't what they thought.

Heroes were perfect. That was made them heroes. The real world wasn't like that. I was proof of that. I was the best they had, and people cling to any bit of hope. As much as I inspired them, they inspired me. I wanted to be what the children saw when they gathered around me. No matter how wrong they were, I was their hope. My worst nightmare was letting them down. I watched myself day and night, always striving to live up to their image. I wasn't perfect, and I never would be. But I would never stop trying. That's what heroes do.

* * *

**Nubu wasn't always so noble. He was a normal guy with normal faults in his form, and I tried to emphasize that here. Once we saw the faceclaim it was inevitable, but he's more complex than he looks.**


	40. Avariella Hanson

Ava Hanson, District Two (15, sort of)

They all looked down on me. I was a Victor like them, but it took me two times. They all won fair and square. I was the only one who died. I brought shame on our District. I was the only one who needed a third chance. Two didn't give second chances.

Pray said that was nonsense. She said I was the only one who won in an Arena full of nothing but Careers. She was just being nice. Pray was the strongest of all of us. She tore a boy apart when she was only fifteen. She was Silver Claws Jager, the greatest legend of the Games. She could afford to be forgiving.

Things had been better lately. In the Capitol, you could get anything you wanted. As a Victor, I could have things shipped to the village in Two. I didn't have to worry so much about what I ate when I could have food specifically engineered so the fatty parts broke down before they were even digested. One time, when I was feeling down, I tried to order a shipment of the emetic syrup the Capitolites used at their feasts, but the mailman blanched and said that couldn't be shipped. No doubt Silver Claws had paid him a visit.

It was weird living a life of leisure after so many years training night and day. I had time to sit around and do whatever I wanted. I went back to the Capitol to film a series of commercials for a line of lipgloss inspired by my Games. I went to the Academy as a guest speaker and instructor. Some of the students listened carefully. Others jeered. "Sloppy thirds", they called me.

I worried about staying in shape, but my weight never changed at all. I weighed myself ever day for months after the Games were done, and it was always the same. They must have done something to me while they put me back together. But I wasn't complaining. That was one less thing to worry about. People stopped me in the streets and I could sense their admiring glances as they walked by. I loved it.

Pray said I was a real Victor, not a disappointment. She was the best Victor of all, so she had to be right. The more time went by, the less important it seemed. I was a Victor. I was alive. I proved I could do it and I won. There was no pleasing some people, but they weren't important.

I had a long time left ahead of me, and I hardly knew what to do with it. The Games were over. They were behind me. Except teaching, if I wanted to, there was nothing more to do about them. It was a chance to reinvent myself, just like the Capitol reinvented me. I didn't have to be such a perfectionist anymore. I'd reached perfection when I won against Panem's killer elite. I didn't have to worry about letting anyone down. Lottie, Olivine, and Marley were gone, but I avenged them. They'd want me to be as happy now as I was with them. I could let down my hair, let go of my reserve, and enjoy life.

* * *

**Bear in mind Ava is an unreliable narrator when it comes to her own accomplishments and shortcomings. She's very insecure.**


	41. Careen Ellis

Careen Ellis- 18

The Games were never quite as important in Four. It was harder for us to be so careless with our lives when we lived somewhere so beautiful. There were always enough volunteers to go around, which made life even more carefree for the ones who didn't, but there was never much of a surplus. We lived our lives more or less the way we wanted to. The ones who wanted a challenge trained for the Games, and the ones that didn't stayed home.

Because of that, there was a disconnect between the Four Victors and the other Careers. The others based their entire lives around the Games- Pray had never even been to a party before she won. After they won, all they did was talk about their time in the Arena or train other people to do the same. They spent their days in the same gymnasiums and classrooms they'd spent their lives before the Games. It was like their old, bygone glory days were all that mattered.

I wasn't ready for my life to peak yet. Like the others from my District, I was barely getting started. None of us had intended this to be the highest point of our lives. Jonah hadn't even volunteered. Shelle did it because it was expected of her. Shane regretted his Games more than anything else and rarely spoke of them. And me, I just did it to show I could. It was like climbing a mountain. I knew it might kill me, but I had to see how far I could go. Now that I'd been there, I wanted to go further. That wasn't the end of everything.

There was a lot more to life than fighting. It had been fun (and scarier than I admitted to most people), but it wasn't everything. After winning, I didn't have to worry about working anymore. I was even freer than most people in Four. I could do anything I wanted, and I did a lot. Some days I sat in the house all day with Aidan. Some days I lounged on the beach, and sometimes I surfed. I talked to friends and threw parties and collected seashells.

It wasn't all relaxing and partying, either. I made sure to keep myself busy and stay useful. I raised funds for a group that worked to preserve the sea turtles that nested off the coast of Four, and every summer I went out with a flashlight to help guide the hatchlings to the ocean. I donated money to causes that came up, and I stayed active in the community. I didn't directly train the Academy students, but I did volunteer as a mentor. I helped the prospective volunteers decide if this was what they really wanted, or if their lives were better spent elsewhere. It wasn't the right choice for everyone.

The Games brought me economic stability and permanent social status, and I was grateful for that. They were a helpful tool, but they weren't my end goal. I was glad that more came after the Games ended, and that I didn't peak at eighteen and spend the rest of my life talking about my battle scars. I was proud of my time in the Arena and what I accomplished, but life after was just as fulfilling.

* * *

**Here we have Careen, perhaps the single best-adjusted Victor.**


	42. Shane Donegal

Shane Donegal, D4- 18

A warrior was strong and swift, like the Fianna. To even join his clan, men had to run across a mile of thornbushes, hunt a deer with their bare hands, leap over a stick held at their chest, and defend themselves from nine enemies with only a wooden rod. Their leader Fionn mac Cumhaill destroyed giants and monsters alike, and Fianna member Lugh defeated the great king Balor of the Evil Eye. The picture in my family's book showed a battlefield strewn with fallen fighters, and in the center, a single man plunginga sword into a man whose bloodred eye spewed black waves of death. I turned the page and revealed more characters.

A warrior was fierce, as fierce as the Morrigan. Like Badb the war crow, whose cry meant the death of nations. Like Macha the Red, the war-queen. Like Nemain, whose name meant "poison" and who was called "The Frenzy" by the few enemies she allowed to escape. The picture showed three women in a circle, their flaming hair streaming in the air as the faced endless hordes of challengers.

A warrior was as crafty as Cu Chulainn, who defeated his enemies with distraction. A warrior was as brave as Patrick, who slew the terrible serpent Crom Cruach. He was as clever as Gwydion the trickster. He was patient as Fionnula, who fought seven years to free her cursed brothers. I flipped through more and more pages, watching the swirling art change and reveal more pieces of my dream. My family's shillelagh hung over the table that held the book, reminding me of what was to come.

Warriors weren't made overnight. It took years before I was strong enough to properly wield my weapon and years more before I was skilled enough to wield it well. I should have learned other things, like lightness of foot and strategy, but I was impatient. I wanted to be out there crossing weapons with people like me, not thinking about what came next. But what came next was all that really mattered.

When I read my book, I never looked at the background. I saw brightly-colored figures in the center of the page doing great deeds. I never paid any attention to the figures in the background- the pale, colorless forms that lay dead on the ground. I never thought to consider how a warrior who killed a thousand enemies required that a thousand people die. I thought of myself as the hero of the story. Only the Games showed me we all thought that way. And the pictures were wrong. The battles weren't glorious things with grimy smiling heroes and fleeing villains. We were all each others' villains, and we all acted like it.

There was another page in the book I never read. It told of Fionn mac Cumhaill's old age. It used to bore me, and I thought it was a terrible ending. Fionn grew tired of fighting. He was weary of seeing people die. One day, he lay down in a cave and slept. The stories said he was still there, waiting until Ireland needed him. I couldn't understand why he would want to sleep when there were battles to fight and adventures to have. I always read to the page before that and stopped.

After the Games, I understood. Fionn had grown wise enough to understand how little there is that's worth fighting for. He was tired of the death that war brought and hoped he never had to see it again. He knew there were still things that made it necessary, though, and that's why he stayed. He was ready to come back, but only if we needed him. Otherwise, he was done. I had never felt more kinship with him.


End file.
